The Truth Will Out
by CMPerry
Summary: One-shot series of all the different ways Dean and Cas could realise their feelings for each other. Some fluffy, some funny, some dark, all Destiel.
1. Apocalypse

Dean jumped out of the truck before it had come to a halt, rifle over his shoulder and an expression on his face that told Cas it had been another bad day.

"Did you find Lucifer?" Cas asked as Dean swiped his bag from the back of the truck.

"Does it look like I found him?" Dean spat, without turning to look at him. With the smallest of gestures, Dean summoned the other three men from the truck and they hurried in to the briefing room. At least that's what they called it, it was really just another of the small wooden cabins of Camp Chitaqua which had become their makeshift compound, surrounded by high chainlink fences, the only thing separating them from the Croatoan virus that had annihilated everything else around them, reducing the streets to empty, burnt out shells.

Cas watched Dean disappear in to the briefing room, and he stood watching long after he was out of view. Eventually he returned to his own cabin where several men and women were lounging on the floor. Cas sat down to join them, rolling and lighting a cigarette, adding to the smoky haze that already filled the room. Only a few minutes later, Cas's conversation was interrupted by the sound of Dean's raised voice from two cabins away, and what sounded like a chair being thrown across the room, and Cas knew that meant they were no closer to finding Sam and freeing him from Lucifer.

A moment later the door banged open and Dean filled the doorway, far more muscular than he had been when Cas first met him, and far angrier.

"Cas. With me." Cas stood up and followed him out in to the cool autumn air, walking behind Dean for the short distance between their personal cabins. Dean snatched the cigarette from Cas's lips where it had been hanging lazily. "I told you not to smoke that crap."

Dean unlocked his front door and strode inside, immediately throwing his dark green jacket in to the corner and kicking off his black leather boots which had grown soft and faded after so many long, failed missions. Cas sat himself down on the bed, cross-legged, watching Dean calmly.

"So how was your day?" Cas asked.

"Take off your pants."

Cas just smiled serenely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I said take off your pants." He watched Dean for another few seconds, wishing for more of a response, but when Dean continued undoing his belt in furious silence, Cas did as he was told.

* * *

Cas turned on to his side to face Dean, hoping to talk to him before he got back out of bed and stormed off on another rage-fuelled mission, but when he looked over to him, he saw that he was asleep. It was the first time in months that Cas had seen him sleep; he normally slept alone in his own cabin or didn't sleep at all. Cas stared at him in wonder, drinking in that familiar face that he hadn't seen in almost three years. He felt like he was looking at a different person, there was no angry frown scorched permanently in to his forehead, his jaw wasn't stiff, he wasn't grinding his teeth in almost unbearable frustration as he tried and failed every day to rescue Sam. He looked peaceful, he looked like the Dean he used to know, the Dean who sang along to Taylor Swift and cried at the end of Marley and Me, the Dean who needed nothing but a slice of pie and a couple of beers with his little brother to be happy. But Cas hadn't seen that man in a long time, and just for a few seconds as he watched him sleep, he felt like he was being taunted by a glimpse of the past, an irretrievable memory of the Dean he had fallen in love with.

Dean began to stir, softly at first, then suddenly sat bolt upright as though someone had screamed in his ear. He turned to look at Cas, trying to steady his breathing, and for a split second, Cas thought he saw the old Dean in his green eyes. But only moments later his gaze hardened and he pushed himself out of bed, pulled on his clothes and headed for the door.

"Dean -" Cas began, but before he could utter another word, the door slammed and he was alone.

* * *

Cas looked up at the murky, polluted sky, trying to guess the time. Dean had refused to let him accompany him on their supply run, so he had spent the day bored out of his mind, sitting around his cabin getting stoned with fourteen other people, yet feeling completely alone. He squinted at the sun and decided that it was almost four o'clock and, right on schedule, Cas heard the scrape of the gate and the growl of three engines returning from their search. Several people had gathered to see what supplies the soldiers had acquired on their run, many of them hoping for coffee or toilet paper or alcohol but Cas was only there for Dean.

Dean was first to jump out of the front truck, closely followed by a young man who had been riding shotgun with him, Dominic Avery. He had been only seventeen when he came to the compound and since then he had become a good and loyal soldier and, with a little guidance from Dean, an expert hunter too. As everyone else climbed out and set about unpacking their supplies, Dean drew his gun, turned and shot Avery in the head. There were screams of surprise from the onlookers as the young man fell to the ground, a halo of blood spreading out around his brown hair.

"Consider that a warning," Dean said to the crowd, his quiet, emotionless voice carrying easily through the frozen air. "He knew he was infected with the Croatoan virus but was stupid enough to come back here. He could have jeopardised this entire colony. This isn't the first time I've had to do this but it damn well better be the last. If any of you get infected, man the hell up and do whatever you need to do to make sure you're not a danger to this group. I don't care if you stab, shoot or hang yourself. Just get it done, because this operation is bigger than any single person here, and I won't let one person be responsible for the death of everyone else."

No one said a word, except for one man behind Cas who leaned toward his friend.

"Hypocrite," he muttered. His friend murmured in agreement and Cas looked around to deliver a biting retort, but he stopped when he realised that they might be right. Two other soldiers watched Dean carefully as they edged forwards to collect Avery's limp body, but Dean paid them no attention, he just strode off towards his cabin.

"With me," he said as he passed Cas. "Now." Cas didn't move for a few moments, taking one last look at Avery who was being dragged away by two of his comrades, a lengthening trail of blood connecting him to the spot where he had died. When Cas looked around again he saw that Dean was already out of sight so he wandered after him until he reached his front door which was lying slightly ajar. The curtains were drawn and Cas couldn't see anything as he took a step inside. Then he was plunged in to darkness as the door slammed behind him and he felt someone throw him roughly against the wall, their lips catching his in a rough kiss. Cas almost gave himself up to the feeling of Dean's mouth on his, his strong hands gripping tightly to his arms, but then he thought of Avery and he opened his eyes.

"Dean, stop," he said, but Dean didn't seem to hear him. "I said stop," he said again, pushing Dean back. "We can't go on like this." He could only see the outlines of Dean's face, illuminated by the daylight filtering under the door, but he looked frustrated. "I am happy to be your punching bag and whatever else you need me to be, but you can't keep using sex to avoid your feelings."

"Right, I should just sit around and get stoned like you," he said acidly. Cas didn't say anything and Dean continued. "I didn't ask for your stupid Psych 101 advice. There are plenty other people in this compound I can fuck without getting a lecture along with it."

It felt like Dean had punched him and it took everything he had not to show it on his face. "I'm sure that's true," Cas said, "but that's not what this is. You can act as heartless as you like but the truth is you're scared and lonely and you just had to kill another one of your friends. So yeah, you could go screw anyone you like, but you don't, you come back to me after every failed mission, every setback, because you know that I'll love you no matter what, and you know that I'm the only person in this compound who understands how much you love your brother."

Dean just made a noise of exasperation and turned towards the window, pulling open the curtain and looking out at the rest of the survivors, busying themselves with various tasks, all looking sombre as they skirted around the pool of blood from the latest casualty of the demon war.

"I know things seem bad," Cas said, "but we've survived this far. We can still beat Lucifer and win back the world. It isn't over."

"Dammit Cas," Dean said, turning on him. "Would you shut up with the optimistic shit for once? You're driving me insane. Get your head out the sand, we can't save the world so take your rose-tinted stupidity elsewhere."

"Sam is dead," Cas snapped. "How's that for optimism? Your brother is dead." He had tried to hold back his temper but he couldn't help it, but when he saw the shock in Dean's eyes he immediately regretted his words. Cas braced himself for more yelling, he even expected Dean to throw a few punches, but instead his eyes went blank and he walked slowly to the opposite side of the room.

"Dean," Cas started, with no idea what he was going to say. "I… I shouldn't have…" He trailed off lamely and Dean continued staring emptily at the wall. Cas stood awkwardly, wanting to apologise but he had forgotten how to handle Dean when he was anything other than angry. At last, Dean spoke.

"It's his birthday," he said in a cracked whisper. "He's supposed to be turning 30. But instead he's - "

"I know," Cas said, reaching out to touch Dean's arm but he pulled away.

"I'm not giving up," he said, finally lifting his eyes to look at Cas. "There's a way to save him, there's always a way and I'll find it. Even if I die in the process."

"Dean… It's been almost two years since Lucifer took over Sam's body - "

"So?" Dean snapped. "Jimmy Novak could have lived forever in the same vessel as you if you hadn't gone and lost your powers. I know Sammy's still in there and we're going to get him back."

"But I wasn't an archangel. And I'm not Lucifer," Cas said. Dean paced restlessly, turning his back on Cas to stare out the cabin window again, but Cas persisted, following him and pulling him around by the shoulder. "You know as well as I do that Sam is long gone," Cas continued. "Even if it was the strongest man in the world, even if it was you trapped in there… there's no surviving that. Watching your own hands do unspeakable things as you're forced further and further out of your own mind -"

"Shut up, Cas," Dean yelled, advancing on him, his face just an inch from his. "Just shut up." Cas stared him down for a long moment, keeping his gaze calm and level against the burning fury in Dean's eyes. Cas held his breath as Dean's fists clenched by his side, but he seemed to rein in his temper as he shoved past Cas and sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his short hair. "I'm not giving up," he said. "And neither is Sam. He's still in there and I'm going to find a way to save him."

"Dean, you need to let him go," Cas said, kneeling in front of him. "I'm sorry, I am truly sorry, but he probably only lasted a few days with Lucifer, if that. And if there is any of him left in there, he'll be too badly damaged to be saved. He won't be Sam anymore." Dean was almost doubled over, his face buried in his hands as Cas kept talking. "You can't save Sam now. But you can still stop Lucifer and save the world."

"I can't do any of this without him" he choked.

"You can," Cas said, moving up to sit beside him, forcing Dean to look at him. "You have been. Dean, you are the strongest person I know, you'll get through this just like you've got through everything else in the past, and I'll be here the whole time." Cas could almost see something inside Dean crumble as every attempt to hold himself together fell apart. Before Cas knew what was happening, Dean was sobbing, his whole body shaking as the realisation hit him that he had lost his little brother. Cas put his arm around him again, and Dean tried to pull away, but Cas held tighter, pulling Dean against him. He fought for a few seconds more before his entire body went limp and he wept uncontrollably against Cas's chest.

* * *

Cas didn't know how much time had passed but the room took on a dim greyish hue as night fell. Dean had long fallen silent and still, but he remained where he was, his head resting on Cas's chest, Cas's arms around him.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, after almost an hour of silence. "I couldn't have done any of this without you and I've treated you like crap. You didn't deserve that."

"Don't apologise," Cas said. "I know how much you're hurting. What I'm feeling doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Dean said, sitting up at last, his eyes shiny and bloodshot. "You matter. And if by some miracle we actually survive, I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Cas smiled as Dean took his face in his hands and kissed him with more affection than Cas had felt from him in years, and they both held tightly to each other for a second, as though they expected to be torn from one another at any moment. Dean kissed him one last time before he headed for the door, zipping up his jacket and running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey Cas," he said, looking back as he pulled the door open. "Don't you dare tell anyone I cried."

The door clicked shut and Cas's hollow smile fell as he found himself sitting alone on the bed once again, staring at the closed door, wishing for a little more time with the man he loved. This war had destroyed Dean, but instead of feeling sympathy for him, Cas couldn't help the selfish grief that was carving away at his insides. Yes, Dean had lost Sam, but somewhere along the line, Cas had lost Dean too.

* * *

**A/N Thanks for reading, they aren't all this depressing, I promise. Although one or two definitely are! I hope you enjoy the rest of these oneshots, please take a minute to leave a review if you have the time. **


	2. Pillow Talk

**A/N I've been working on this one for ages, really hope you enjoy and please drop me a review if you do. Take care. **

* * *

Dean pulled up outside the gas station, an aching emptiness in his stomach after the long drive. Part of him wanted to get back to the bunker as soon as possible, but he couldn't resist stopping in on his way past. He went inside, straight past the food to find what he really needed after nearly two weeks on the road. He found Cas at the back of the store, straightening a row of powdered donuts. He looked strange in his gas station uniform, almost unrecognisable out of his trademark trench coat. Dean grabbed him and hugged him heartily. The relief he felt to be near Cas again reminded him with painful clarity just how much he had missed him in the weeks they'd been apart. But when he stepped back, he saw that Cas's face was pale, with purple smudges under his glassy looking eyes.

"Woah, dude are you okay?"

"Dean," he mumbled. "Something is very wrong with me."

"What happened?" he asked. "Are you cursed? Did a demon do this? Tell me what happened."

"No. I mean I don't know. Everything aches, I've been vomiting all day. I'm so tired. I think I'm dying."

"Ohhh," Dean said, smiling sympathetically as he realised what was ailing his friend.

"Oh?"

"You've got stomach flu," he said. "It sucks but you'll feel better in a couple days."

"It can't just be flu," he said, swaying where he stood. "It must be something more serious. Terminal even. This cannot be normal."

"You're not dying, Cas," he said. "But you are coming home with me."

"I haven't finished my shift," he said, reaching out to straighten another packet of donuts and missing the display by a good three inches.

"You have now," Dean said.

"If I leave I'll get fired."

"We'll find you a new job. Right now you just need someone to take care of you. C'mon." He guided Cas out in to the car, making sure he was safely inside before closing the door and walking round to the driver's side.

"Cas?" said Dean as he sat down. Cas didn't respond, he was almost immobile as he stared blankly at the dashboard. "Cas." Dean reached over and put a hand on Cas's chin, turning his head to look at him. "You gonna throw up in my car?"

"No," said Cas. "I don't think so."

"Okay," Dean said, pressing his hand to Cas's clammy forehead for a second. "Tell me if you're gonna hurl okay?"

"Okay."

"We've forgiven each other for a lot of crap, but if you puke in my Baby, I don't think we can come back from that." A tiny smile pulled at the corners of Cas's mouth, exactly what Dean had been hoping for. "Okay, angelface," he said, turning the key in the ignition, "let's get you home."

* * *

"I feel terrible," Cas mumbled as Dean helped him on to the bed.

"Welcome to being human," said Dean. Cas made a pitiful attempt at untying his shoelaces but it proved too difficult for his tired limbs. Dean pulled off Cas's shoes for him and sat them by the bed before opening one of his drawers and throwing him a grey t-shirt and pair of pyjama pants. Cas just stared at them for a moment, apparently having to psyche himself up for the ordeal.

"I ain't undressing you, this one's on you," Dean said and Cas slowly unpinned his gas station name tag and unbuttoned his shirt. He wasn't quite sure where to look as Cas removed his shirt and then his pants, so he made a big deal out of straightening up his already neat desk. A few moments later he peeked over his shoulder to see that Cas was clothed again, sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed.

"Lie down," Dean said, lifting the bed covers and tapping Cas on the legs to get him to move.

"Am I contagious?" Cas asked as Dean put a bottle of water and a trashcan by his bed.

"Yup."

"Then you shouldn't be here," he said. He tried to push Dean away from him but his attempt was so feeble that Dean didn't move so much as a millimetre. Dean smiled,

"I'm not going anywhere 'til you're feeling better," he said, pulling the covers up over Cas's chest.

"But you'll get sick too."

Dean just shrugged as he pulled a chair over to Cas's bedside. "Maybe. But if I do, I guarantee I'll handle it better than you."

* * *

Twenty four hours later, Dean re-entered the room with his arms around his stomach, his face sweaty and pallid, his feet dragging. He had managed eighteen hours by Cas's bedside before the nausea hit. And then the headache. Then the fever.

"Kill me," he mumbled, shuffling towards the bed where Cas was still lying face down. Dean clambered in beside him, curling up in to a ball facing the ex-angel.

"I told you it was bad," Cas said, his voice muffled against the pillow.

"I wish you still had your powers," Dean said.

"So I could cure you?"

"So you could put me out of my misery."

They both lay in silence for a long time, the only sounds were their occasional groans or one of them peeling themselves off the bed and hurrying to the bathroom.

Cas re-entered the room around three o'clock in the morning and lowered himself gingerly on to the bed, hands rubbing his stomach. "I don't enjoy being human," he said sadly.

In amongst the waves of nausea, Dean felt a stab of sympathy for Cas. A few months ago he had been an incredibly powerful celestial being, but now he was suddenly human, doing his best to navigate a thousand new and confusing experiences, almost like a toddler except he also had to live with the frustrating memory of the power he used to hold.

Dean was about to reply but was forced to clamp his mouth shut, wondering if he was going to throw up again.

"I'm sorry I got you sick," Cas said in the silence.

Dean took a steadying breath as the nausea faded again. "Well I wasn't about to leave you," he said. "You know what they say, a problem shared is a problem halved."

"You misunderstand how viruses work," Cas said. Dean managed a small smile.

"Well, misery loves company and all that." He turned over to join Cas in staring at the white ceiling. The pulses of nausea in his stomach were interspersed with rushes of feverish heat and chills that meant he had to keep alternating between being wrapped up in two blankets and stripping down to nothing but his sweatpants.

A few hours later, Cas was sitting up in the bed and there was a little colour back in his cheeks. Dean, however, was face down again, his arm hanging over the edge of the bed, his sweat soaked t-shirt in a heap on the floor.

"You look better," Dean said peering up at Cas, but he was so exhausted that the words came out as little more than a single slurred syllable. Somehow, Cas still understood.

"Well you look terrible," he said. He watched Dean for a long moment as though he were considering something. "Come here," he said at last, extending his arms to Dean. Dean lifted his head and gave him a dubious look. "I'm serious," Cas said, "come here."

"No way, man," he said, kicking the covers off his legs in feverish agitation. "I'm way too hot."

"You'll feel better, I promise," Cas insisted. "It's the only ability I seem to have retained since becoming human." Dean frowned at him for a moment longer before deciding that he wasn't in any state to be turning down something that might make him feel better. He shuffled closer to Cas and after another momentary hesitation he lay his head down on Cas's chest and felt the angel's arms around him.

The improvement he felt was instantaneous. The nausea, the aching muscles and the throbbing pain in his head all faded, leaving him with nothing but a feeling of warm, heavy tiredness. He remained very still and quiet for several minutes, too stubborn to admit that Cas had been right. But the exhaustion quickly crept over him, filling him with a kind of cosy delirium as he drifted to the edge of sleep.

"Making people feel better has nothing to do with your grace," Dean said suddenly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Mm?"

"You've always been able to make me feel better, angel or not. That's nothing to do with your angel powers. That's just you."

Dean didn't look up but he heard the smile in Cas's voice when he spoke. "It's good to know I still have some use."

* * *

Dean woke several hours later, still tired. In the first few moments of consciousness he was so blissfully comfortable that he couldn't bring himself to move. As he lay there in the quiet and the stillness, all the tiny details of his surroundings seemed magnified. The sound of Cas's heartbeat inside his chest seemed deafening in the silence. His face buried against Cas's neck, the slow, smooth rise and fall of his chest, the weight and warmth of the angel's arm across his bare back were the only things he could feel. But he was too tired to convince himself that this ought to feel wrong. He didn't have the energy for anything other than instinct, and so he lay there feeling warm and safe, not caring that he was overstepping a line or making himself vulnerable. It was just him and Cas, alone. Together.

He was dragged from his reverie by the sound of the door clicking open. He looked up to see Sam entering the room, brandishing Holy Water and a cross in front of him.

"Is it safe?" he asked, staying close to the door.

"Very funny," said Dean as he reluctantly pushed himself upright to look at his brother. Sam put his props away with a self-amused smile and picked up a tray that was lying just outside the room. He sat it on Dean's desk, still not venturing too close to the bed.

"I brought you some toast and tea and some water. You probably won't want any judging by the noises I've heard coming from the bathroom all day, but it's there if you want it."

Dean appreciated the gesture, but the ordinarily innocuous smell of toasted bread assaulted his fragile senses, making his stomach contort, and he instantly felt the burn of acid rising in his throat.

"Thanks Sammy," he said, forcing a friendly smile as he fought to keep what was left of his stomach contents in their rightful place.

"You guys looks like hell," added Sam. "Don't come near me 'til you're better."

"That's a lovely sentiment," Dean said. "Now get out." Sam laughed and left them alone, closing the door firmly behind him as though to keep the germs at bay.

Cas sat up and walked stiffly to the desk, picking up a mug of hot sweet tea and offering Dean a bottle of water which he turned down. Cas returned to the bed and took a sip of his drink, giving a little sigh of appreciation as he did so.

"That's the one thing I like about being human, being able to eat and drink."

They had barely grazed the topic of food and Dean felt his stomach lurch. He sat up abruptly, grabbing hold of the trashcan and willing himself not to throw up. A second later, the moment passed and he lowered himself back down, rubbing his hand in circles across his stomach.

"Let's talk about something else," he said.

"Like what?" asked Cas.

"I dunno, anything. Just distract me."

"Okay," Cas said. "If you could have any superpower what would it be?"

"Flying," Dean said after a brief consideration. "I was always jealous of your wings." Cas didn't reply and Dean looked round to see Cas staring sadly at his feet. "Sorry," Dean added. Cas looked up and gave him a small smile.

"It's okay," he said. "I do miss my wings though." Dean didn't know what to say, so instead he shuffled back over to Cas under the pretence of making himself feel better. As he lay his head back on Cas's chest, the relief from his sickness was so sudden and so absolute that it bordered on euphoric.

"Okay," Dean said, as the euphoria faded slightly. "If you could live in any state which would it be?"

"Colorado," he said. "I used to visit the Garden of the Gods all the time. Of course that was a few thousand years ago when God was actually around."

"I always forget how old you are," Dean said, looking up the man beside him, with his dark hair and his smooth face unblemished except for the perpetual frown lines on his forehead which seemed to clash with the smile lines engraved at the corners of his eyes. He didn't look more than thirty five, but in reality he was at least a hundred times that. Probably more.

"I still look better than you," Cas said with a sideways smirk and Dean elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"Okay, I have a good one," Dean said. "If you could pick one moment out of your entire existence and make it last forever, what would you pick?"

"This one," said Cas without hesitation. Dean gave a short laugh but when he glanced up to Cas he saw that his blue eyes were fixed intently on him. Dean felt a lurch in his stomach when he realised he wasn't joking, and it had nothing to do with the flu.

"This one?"

"Yes."

"This moment?" Dean repeated blankly. "But you're sick. And human. And…"

"And I'm here with you," he said simply. "There isn't much else I want. And besides, I'm feeling much better."

"But you could choose any moment. You could have anything you want," Dean said, his surprise making him object more than he ought to. Cas just fixed him with that same steady gaze that rendered words redundant, and Dean's protests fell silent.

"Well what moment would you pick?" Cas asked after a brief pause. It would have been rude if Dean didn't give the same response, but that thought didn't even cross his mind as he propped himself up on one arm to look Cas straight in the eye, their faces very close, Cas's arm still around Dean's back.

"This one," he said quietly. "Right now." Cas reached out to touch Dean's face, which was all the prompting he needed to slide his hand around the back of Cas's neck and pull him in to a soft kiss.

"You know," said Cas with a smile, "I don't think I mind being human after all."


	3. Stay

"What are you going to do now?" Dean asked, walking down one of the deep tire tracks in the snowy road, side by side with Cas.

"I think it's time I returned to heaven to face the repercussions of my actions. I've been hiding for too long."

"Well don't take any crap, you've been hard enough on yourself as it is." Cas didn't really believe him. He had gone mad, drunk on power and massacred thousands of angels. There was no excuse for that, and he had to be punished for it. Cas noticed the snow at his feet grow brighter and heard the slow crunch of a car creeping carefully across the snowy road. He moved towards the snow-blanketed sidewalk and felt Dean's hand on his back, guiding him away from the approaching vehicle. It was harder walking through the six inches of white powder on the sidewalk that had begun to freeze in the cold night air, but together they trudged on towards their motel.

"Will you come back?" Dean asked suddenly and quietly. Cas turned to look at him and was surprised to see genuine worry in usually guarded expression.

"Of course," he said. "Unless I'm incarcerated or executed for my crimes."

"Dude!"

"Sorry. But it's a possibility."

"Well, if they throw you in angel jail I'll come visit you when I die."

"Thank you," Cas said. "I hope you'll be very old."

"That's not likely," Dean said, with a dry laugh.

They were just a few blocks from the motel when they turned a corner and were stopped in their tracks by four people blocking the road.

"Excuse me," Cas said, walking forward and expecting them to move out of the way, but they stood perfectly still.

"It's been a while, brother," one of them said, and Cas recognised him, although the voice and vessel were unfamiliar.

"Adriel?" Instead of replying, Adriel gestured to another angel, who Cas recognised as Daniel. He walked forward and before Dean or Cas realised what was happening, he had reached out two fingers and pressed them to Dean's forehead, and they both vanished.

"Where did you take him?" Cas said. "Bring him back immediately."

"We don't take orders from a genocidal lunatic," Adriel said. Cas looked to the other angels.

"Sophie? Nathaniel?" They nodded stiffly. "What are you doing? Where is Dean?"

"This isn't about the human," Adriel said. "This is about revenge." Cas immediately dropped the angel blade from his sleeve and in to his hand. Adriel tutted. "Now, now, Castiel. Do you really want more blood on your hands?"

As if on command, Sophie suddenly lunged forward, her own angel blade grasped tightly. Cas ducked backwards and the blade missed him by inches. Adriel swung at him next but Cas was faster, hitting Adriel across the face and thrusting the angel blade at his stomach, but he dodged swiftly and swiped at Cas's chest. The blade ripped through his coat, only just missing his skin. Nathaniel appeared suddenly behind him, his knife to Cas's throat, but Cas threw his head back, striking Nathaniel squarely in the forehead, making him stumble backwards.

"I don't want to hurt any of you," Cas implored, holding up his hands, but no one paid any heed.

When he looked around he saw that Adriel was gone, and before he could locate him, Sophie lunged for him once more, a glint of madness in the blue eyes of her vessel. Nathaniel had clambered back to his feet, joining Sophie and backing Cas in to a corner.

He felt someone grip him by the shoulder. Adriel. He whipped around and thrust his blade upwards, feeling every tiny movement as he punctured clothes, skin, muscle, organs, scraped bone. Clutching his attacker by the jacket he looked in to his face, but the person looking back at him, mouth open, eyes wide with shock and pain, was Dean. Dean's knees gave way and Cas only just managed to stop him hitting the snowy ground.

"Oh my God. Dean." Dean's chest was rising and falling fitfully, but no air was passing his lips. He stared at Cas, fear shining in his eyes.

He moved his lips as though he was trying to speak, his hand finding Cas's coat and clinging on tightly.

Cas was paralysed as he looked in horror at what he had done. The knowledge that he could heal Dean was little consolation when he saw how much pain he was in. He grasped the angel blade and pulled it from Dean's chest and blood poured from the wound like he had removed a cork from a bottle, soaking in to the pure white snow. Cas reached out a hand but before he could touch Dean, he was suddenly dragged backwards by several pairs of hands. The three angels pulled him away and restrained him as he fought to get back to Dean.

"An eye for an eye, brother," Adriel growled in to his ear. "We watched you slaughter thousands of our siblings, so now you will watch your companion die."

"No!" Cas yelled, struggling hopelessly against them. "Dean!" Dean's fingers were scraping frantically at the ground, his back arching in agony as he choked on his own blood. Cas was screaming at the angels to show some mercy, screaming for Dean, and then he was just screaming, wrestling in vain to be free of his captors. And then Dean fell still.

"Dean!" Cas roared, and in a sudden and uncontrollable rage, he turned on them, ripping his arms free. He struck Nathaniel hard across the face and he flew backwards, slamming in to a dumpster with a sickening thud. Then, turning on Adriel, Cas grabbed him by the throat, throwing him against the brick wall, pressing on his windpipe until his eyes began to roll back in his head. Sophie ran towards him and still with one arm on Adriel's throat, Cas plunged the blade in to his chest, using the resulting flash of blinding white light to overpower Sophie and finish her too. She hadn't even hit the ground before Cas was running to Dean's side. He fell to his knees beside him. His eyes were still open, dull and glassy, staring blankly up at the clear night sky. Cas placed his hand on Dean's chest, willing him back to life.

"Dean," he said, pressing his hand over Dean's heart, focussing all of his remaining energy on healing him, but something was wrong. "Please, Dean. Please don't leave me." Dean remained completely still. An empty vessel. Cas placed his trembling hands on Dean's face, only then realising that they were covered in cool blood. "Dean," Cas pleaded, "Come back to me."

Almost a minute went by, where Cas could do nothing but kneel by Dean's side, silent tears pouring down his cheeks. And then he heard it. The faintest beat of a heart struggling back to life. Cas pulled back Dean's shirt and saw the knife wound slowly begin to close. And then all at once, with a huge gasp, Dean was back. He sat up immediately, panting and staring around frantically. Then his eyes landed on Cas and he seemed to remember what had happened.

"What the hell, man!" he said.

"I'm so sorry," Cas said. But Dean smiled, still trying to catch his breath.

"Hey, no harm, no foul angelface." But despite his casual words, he pulled Cas in to an embrace and clung tightly to him, and Cas knew that Dean had been as scared as he was.

"I never meant to hurt you," Cas said.

"I know that."

"I love you."

"I know that too." Dean finally let go of Cas and they helped each other to their feet. They stood face to face in the dark. "Don't go back to heaven," Dean said. "Stay with me."

Cas stared at him for a moment, a small frown forming on his brow, his head tilting slightly to the side. He was still no expert on social etiquette or emotions, and maybe it was just wishful thinking but he thought that there was the promise of something behind Dean's words.

"I deserve to be punished, Dean."

"No, you don't. You deserve to be happy. We both do." There it was again, those words that seemed to be laden with extra meaning. Cas reached out and placed a hand on Dean's face, feeling the rough stubble under his palm. Dean smiled softly and Cas realised that his suspicions had been correct. Without any further thought, Cas kissed him and was relieved to find Dean kissing him back. In stark contrast to his skin, Dean's lips were soft and warm and Cas had the strangest sensation that this was exactly where he was supposed to be. Dean's hands were on his face now, and he kept them there even when they broke the kiss.

"Well that's new," Dean said breathily. Cas smiled. "I don't ever want to lose you," he added.

"Neither do I."

"Then quit stabbing me." Cas laughed and tried to look guiltily down at his shoes, but Dean's hands kept him looking squarely in to those green eyes. "God damn it Cas. I love you."


	4. Introductions

"Cas, what the hell are we doing here?" Dean asked a little disoriented from being suddenly and unexpectedly zapped cross-country by an angel. A moment ago, he had been standing in a dim motel room and now he was squinting in the sunlight, in the middle of a very familiar scrapyard. Cas didn't reply, he just dragged him by the hand towards Bobby's front door. "We're supposed to be working a case," Dean protested. Just before they reached the porch, Cas turned around to him and looked at him intently, his blue eyes even bluer in the sun.

"There are so many unconventional things about you, Dean. Your childhood, your lifestyle... us." Dean smiled a little at the sound of that last word. It all still felt very new to him. Very new, and very good. "You deserve some normality," Cas continued. "I've been doing some research and I believe this is the correct social convention."

"What is?" Dean asked, both amused and slightly frustrated by Cas's secrecy. Cas knocked firmly on the scuffed door and waited for the sound of Bobby's footsteps to come along the corridor. When the door opened, Bobby raised an eyebrow and stared at them like they were both insane.

"What the hell are you knocking for? You know the door's open."

"Mr Singer," Cas said, extending his hand. Bobby squinted at him from under his tattered cap. "I know we've met many times before, but I would like to formally introduce myself. I am Castiel, angel of the Lord, and I'm Dean's boyfriend." Dean's face fell. He stared at Bobby with wide eyes, feeling heat rise up his neck and creep on to his face. Bobby just blinked.

"His… boyfriend?"

"Yes," Cas said, with an affirming nod.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes," Cas repeated. Several agonising seconds passed where Dean dearly wished the ground would swallow him whole. He waited, terrified for Bobby's reaction. At long last Bobby just shook his head and grinned, pulling Cas in to a tight hug.

"It's about damn time," was all he said, releasing Cas and stepping out on to the porch to stand in front of Dean.

"What are you looking so skittish for?" he asked. Dean had been so blindsided by the entire situation that he found he couldn't form a coherent sentence. "Lighten up, ya idjit," Bobby said, embracing Dean and clapping him heartily on the back. "I've never been prouder."


	5. Epiphany

It was 2am and Sam was lying awake on the motel bed staring at the ceiling with a pit in his stomach that made him feel sick and empty at the same time. The curtains still hung open, and a dim yellow light seeped in to the room from the street lights outside, faintly illuminating a watery brown stain on the ceiling, and damp, bulging patches of drywall. But Sam couldn't see any of that. The image of his girlfriend burning to death was playing relentlessly in his mind, over and over again, the panic in her eyes as she looked at him, confused, terrified, and then the screaming as she burst in to flames, pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, dying. Sometimes Sam could go days at a time without thinking about her, but not today, because today it was ten years exactly since he looked up to see the love of his life die.

He heard the key turn in the lock and the familiar footsteps of his brother entering the dim motel room. The door clicked shut, and he heard it lock again from the inside, but then there was silence. He sat up to see that Dean had only managed to make it a few feet into the room and was now standing with his head resting against the partition that separated the rest of the room from the front door.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly. Dean looked up at him, apparently unaware that his brother was awake, and Sam was surprised to see his eyes were filled with tears. "What's wrong?"

"I had no idea," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I had no idea how much you loved Jess."

Sam nodded slightly. "You remembered."

"All this time I knew that you loved her and it broke your heart when she died, but I didn't _realise_, Sammy..."

"Dean, you're not making any sense." Sam walked over to him, pulled him by the jacket sleeve and sat him down on his bed, sitting down opposite and watching his brother with concern. He could tell he had been drinking, but when Dean spoke again his words were clear and sincere.

"You know," Dean said, "it wouldn't have mattered how many times you told me you loved her, or how well you described it, I never would have been able to understand what it felt like. Not really."

"But now?"

"I get it now. It's like… being with her makes everything else fall away because you love her so much that you can't feel anything else. Just touching her can make you feel more alive than you ever thought you could in a life that has been nothing but death and misery. And you'll make a complete ass of yourself just to see her smile because seeing her happy is the only thing in the entire world that really matters and at the end of every day you look at her and you can't believe she's actually there, by your side, because you never thought in your wildest dreams that you might deserve someone so incredible."

Sam just sat there, startled to find that his gruff, guarded brother had just put into words the grief, the love, and the loss that he had never been able to describe himself.

"What I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry for all these years I never realised how much you loved Jess."

Sam smiled sadly. "Where did this sudden revelation come from?" Dean gave a shaky sigh and raised his head to look at his brother. His eyes were still shining with tears, but he smiled.

"That's how I feel when I look at Cas."


	6. Say Something

"Cas, you look miserable," Dean said as he sat down in the study opposite the angel, sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. When Cas didn't react, Dean pulled away the book that he had been staring at for the past twenty minutes, forcing him to look up at him. "What's wrong with you?" Cas's gaze flickered from Dean back to the dark wooden table.

"You've had many romantic partners, right?" Cas asked.

"Uh… I wouldn't say many," Dean said, a little uncertainly. "Some, I guess. Why?" Cas hesitated again, taking a slow, deep breath he asked,

"What happens when you find someone who… who makes you happier than you ever thought you could be, and when you aren't together you feel like you left part of yourself with them… and there's an emptiness that nothing else will fill until you can be near them again." Cas said all of this without removing his eyes from his hands in front of him.

"Well aren't you a dark horse?" Dean said, punching Cas on the shoulder and grinning at him, perhaps overcompensating slightly for the small but inexplicable pang of jealously that prodded at his insides. "You've got the hots for someone? Who is she? She an angel?"

"Dean." Cas said, looking him straight in the eye, an expression of such defeat and confusion on his face that Dean's smile dropped instantly. He pulled his chair closer to the table.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"It's all very complicated," he said. "But I don't think my feelings are reciprocated." Dean patted Cas on the arm sympathetically.

"Aw, that sucks, man. I've been there," Dean said. Cas looked at him, holding his gaze for a split second too long, as though waiting for him to say something, but Dean had no idea what.

"So what do I do?" Cas asked, at last.

"Getting some distance is probably your best bet," he said. "Don't see her, don't talk to her, don't even call her. Just cut her out of your life until you feel like you can start moving on again."

Cas frowned. "You mean I should just run from the problem?"

"You can't run from something like this. Believe me," Dean said, with a dry laugh. "It'll follow you for a long time, but the more you're reminded of her, the harder it's going to be."

"It seems extreme," Cas said.

"Yeah, I know. But it's effective. It's the best way to avoid getting hurt." Cas paused for a second, as though he was waiting to see if Dean was finished. When Dean didn't say anything else, Cas's shoulders seemed to sag, a look of defeat coming over his face.

"It's a little late for that," he muttered, pulling his arm away from Dean and walking down the corridor towards his room. Dean was about to follow him when Sam appeared at the end of the corridor with his laptop and several books in his arms. He greeted Cas as he passed him, but Cas didn't reply. When Sam reached the table, he dumped his things in front of Dean and turned to him, frowning.

"What's up with him?" he asked.

"It's kinda personal," Dean said, aware that Cas could probably hear everything they were saying with his weird angel hearing. Sam followed Dean's gaze along the now empty corridor, taking one last look after the troubled angel before opening his laptop and beginning to tell Dean about a case he had found. But Dean wasn't really listening. He was still staring blankly down the corridor, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach that he couldn't quite define.

"Dean?" Sam said, evidently realising that his brother wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention.

"Sorry, man. I'm really tired. Fill me in in the morning?"

"Sure," Sam said, watching Dean curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, flashing him a quick smile. "Night, Sammy."

"Night." Dean headed immediately for Cas's room. He stopped in front of the door, hand raised to knock. But he didn't move. He stood for almost a minute preparing to knock and then deciding against it. Eventually he turned away and headed for his own bedroom, resolving to talk to Cas in the morning.

* * *

The next morning, Dean knocked on his brother's bedroom door with his free hand, the other one occupied by an enormous plate of toast. Sam was sitting on his bed, his laptop and more books spread out in front of him.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked.

"Thanks," Sam said, grabbing a slice of toast smothered in peanut butter. "So like I was saying last night, I think there's a nest of vamps about an hour from here. You want to clear 'em out?"

"Sure," Dean said, chewing on his third slice of toast. "You seen Cas this morning?"

"Yeah, he went out earlier."

"Where to?"

"He didn't say."

"Why didn't you ask?" Dean said, his tone a little more accusatory than he intended.

"It was none of my business," Sam replied snappily. Dean mumbled an apology and Sam studied him, concerned. "You worried about him or something?"

"Nah," Dean lied, shoving the last of his toast in to his mouth. "He'll be home soon enough. Now let's go gank some vamps."

* * *

Three days and thirty vampires later, Sam and Dean were making their way back to the bunker. It had been a pretty enjoyable weekend, straightforward, slightly dangerous; it reminded Dean of some of their earliest cases together before things were complicated by apocalypses, angels, and demons.

Dean had left a note pinned to Cas's door before they left, telling him where they would be but he hadn't come to join them. Dean wouldn't have worried, he would have just assumed that Cas was still depressed about his love life, except that he had been completely incommunicado; he wasn't replying to texts, calls or even prayers.

As soon as they reached the bunker, Dean hurried inside, but he found everything exactly the way they had left it, the note still tacked, untouched, to Cas's door.

"He'll turn up," Sam said. Dean grunted his agreement, but couldn't help worrying.

* * *

Three more days passed and Dean was getting desperate. He tried to convince himself again and again that Cas was just busy, or working a case of his own, or visiting heaven, but none of those reasons explained why he wasn't returning Dean's calls.

"Still not heard from Cas?" Sam asked, sitting down at the large table, watching Dean pace the floor.

"No. I'm starting to worry, man."

"Did he say anything before he left?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno," Sam said, "anything that might be a clue about where he's gone?"

"He was acting kinda weird I guess. He was asking me for relationship advice." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"He's got a girlfriend?"

"No that's the problem. He said it was all too complicated and they couldn't ever be together so he wanted to know how to get over someone."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That he needed to put as much distance between them as he could..." As soon as he said it aloud Dean's heart plummeted. He looked down at Sam who was staring at him with the same shocked recognition that he felt.

"Oh my god." Dean sat down opposite Sam, covering his mouth with his hands. He was surprised, blindsided by the revelation that Cas had been talking about him, but those feelings didn't seem to extend to the back of his mind, where a little voice was telling him that really, he had known all along.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Dean said. "If I'd known the whole story I..." he trailed off before he could finish, standing again and resuming his pacing, running his hands through his hair. "And now my own advice has come back to bite me in the ass and I might never see him again."

Dean glanced to his brother when he realised that he wasn't sharing his worry, he was just sitting there, watching Dean almost sympathetically.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Maybe this is for the best," Sam said, hesitantly.

"Are you out of your mind? This is Cas we're talking about."

"Look, Dean. All I'm saying is that your advice was good advice. If he really does have feelings for you, then we need to give him space."

"But if I'd known he was talking about me I would never have said any of that. I would have…"

"What?" Sam asked. "Pretended to be gay for the rest of your life to avoid hurting his feelings?"

"No…" Dean said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. "I just don't want that last conversation to be our last, y'know?" Sam stood up, still watching his brother with a kind of exasperated pity.

"He's my friend too, Dean. Hell, he's like family. I love him and I'll miss him but don't you think we should just give the poor guy some peace? I mean, imagine how he's feeling. This must be killing him, and seeing you again is only going to make it worse." Dean was suddenly confused, not to mention frustrated that his brother had made a good point. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse for Cas, but how could he let him go thinking that Dean didn't care for him? His mind was already made up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the stairs.

"If it was anyone else…" he said. "_Anyone_ else, I'd let them go. But not Cas." Before Dean could reach the door his brother had run up the stairs behind him, pushing past him and blocking his exit.

Dean waited for Sam to argue with him but he didn't speak, he just stood in the doorway toe to toe with Dean, towering over his big brother.

"Sammy, get out of my way," Dean said, quietly.

Sam continued to stare him down, and Dean felt his frustration rise in to anger as Sam stood in the way of him getting to Cas. But before he could threaten his brother, Sam seemed to reach some kind of realisation in his mind, and with a small nod, he pushed open the door for Dean.

"I guess we'd better go find him then."

* * *

It took them the best part of a week to track down Cas, and by then end of it, Dean was almost unbearable to be around. He didn't feel it at the time, but he was incredibly grateful to Sam for accompanying him and tolerating his increasingly short temper.

Part of the reason for his frustration was the fact that Sam seemed to have some kind of unique insight in to Cas's mind than Dean didn't. While Dean had next to no idea where the angel might be, Sam made correct prediction after correct prediction and soon they tracked Cas down to a motel in Sioux City, Iowa.

Dean pulled up hastily outside the motel, straddling three parking spaces. Sam ran in to the reception to find out which room Cas was in, but Dean was too impatient to wait. He began going from room to room, banging on doors and looking through windows. Sam came hurrying out a few moments later, pulling Dean up a short flight of metal stairs.

"It's this one," Sam said, nodding to the scraped and peeling door in front of them. Dean waited for him to knock but instead Sam took a step back, gesturing for Dean to go in.

"You're not coming in?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head,

"I think this one's on you." Dean had been so preoccupied with finding Cas that he hadn't even begun to think about what he might do or say when he actually found him. He felt Sam watching him, his expectant gaze pushing Dean towards the door, his own fear keeping him back. At last he knocked, holding his breath as he waited for a sound, a footstep, the click of a lock, but everything was silent.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he glanced quickly around before throwing his weight against the door. The old, damp wood splintered easily and the door swung open, revealing a dim, empty room. The only sign that Cas had been there at all was that day's newspaper, lying open on the small desk. The apprehension Dean had been feeling dropped away leaving nothing but bitter disappointment. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands and Sam leaned against the doorframe.

"He's gone," Dean said.

"We'll find him."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Dean asked bitterly. "You're the one that's tracked him down this far. I've been useless. I don't seem to know a damn thing about him."

Sam came and sat down next to his brother. "Cas said once that you two have a profound bound," Sam said.

"So?"

"So, whenever you need him he's there in a second. Whenever I need him I need to go and find him. I guess I've gotten pretty good at it. It's not a reflection on how well you know him, you just never need to track him down because he's always by your side."

"Yeah well he's not by my side now," Dean said, Sam's explanation providing him with little comfort.

"You know," Sam added, "tracking down Cas is a lot like tracking down you. You have a lot in common, even your bolt-holes and escape strategies."

Dean scoffed. "We've got nothing in common. We don't even like the same music..." The moment he said this, his eye was drawn to the newspaper on the table, left open on the entertainment pages. Dean jumped to his feet, tearing out the page and heading for the door.

"Suit up, Sammy," he said. "I know where he is."

* * *

Half an hour later they pulled up in front of the Orpheum Theatre, having changed out of their jeans and plaid shirts and into their suits. Dean flashed his FBI badge as he ran passed the doormen and in to the theatre. Before he could run in to the main hall, he realised that Sam wasn't beside him. He turned to see Sam a few paces behind, looking reluctant.

"You're not coming?" Dean asked.

"Like I said, man, I really think this is something you should do by yourself."

"Okay."

"I'll go get dinner or something, I'll catch up with you later. Take all the time you need."

"Okay."

"Good luck."

"Okay," Dean said again, robotically, his mind preoccupied with what might happen in a few moments. "Sorry," he said, pulling himself out of his panicked trance. "Thanks. I'll see you later."

As soon as Sam was gone, Dean walked towards the main room of the theatre. As he got closer, he was able to hear the soft sound of a violin reverberating through the auditorium, which was quickly joined by the surge of an entire orchestra bursting in to a familiar symphony.

Dean opened the door to the hall, the music growing in volume as he stepped inside. At least three hundred people were sitting in rows, enthralled by the orchestra playing on the brightly lit stage, far at the other end of the room.

It didn't take Dean long to locate Cas and his pale trench coat against the darkness of the room. He hurried up to him and touched him on the arm. Cas looked around and his eyes widened.

"Dean."

"Come on," Dean said, pulling him out of his chair and in to the much brighter foyer. Once the door slid shut, the sound of the orchestra became muffled. Cas was the first one to speak, and it hadn't been what Dean had been expecting to hear.

"I was watching that," he said, curtly. "It was Mozart's -"

"Symphony number thirty eight, I know," Dean said, and Cas looked at him with surprise, and Dean was suddenly a little embarrassed. "I heard you listening to it a few weeks ago," he said, shrugging. "I kinda liked it." Cas didn't say anything, he just continued staring indifferently at Dean, his usually kind blue eyes icy. "Cas we really need to talk." The angel looked unsure, hostile even, but he accepted the request nevertheless.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

They walked in complete silence from the theatre, got in to the car without saying a word and drove off. It was painful. The twenty minute drive back to the motel felt like a year. Each second crept by in tense awkwardness with Cas looking stiffly out of the window, Dean's palms growing sweaty on the steering wheel.

"Dean," Cas began. Dean turned to look at him, but he didn't seem to know what to say next, so the remainder of the car journey passed under the shadow of that unfinished sentence.

They entered Cas's motel room and Dean wedged the broken door shut behind them. Almost driven mad by the anticipation, Dean couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Cas, are you in love with me?" he asked, rounding on the angel.

Cas stood stock-still, refusing to meet his eye. All of his efforts to hold himself together, to disguise himself behind hostility, seemed to finally fail. He looked utterly defeated; ashamed and broken.

"Because you know, if you are," Dean continued, "I think that might be the best news I've ever had." Cas looked up in utter surprise, and when he saw the honesty in Dean's eyes he let out a little noise half way between a laugh and a soft sob.

"Damn it, Cas, I wish you'd told me," he continued.

"I thought you would turn me away."

"I would never…" but Dean knew there was nothing he could say, so instead he pulled Cas in to his arms. "I'm sorry, Cas, I've been so stupid," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry I ever let you think that I don't love you." They stood in each other's arms for a long time, both savouring the relief that they were finally back together. Eventually Cas stepped back from him, eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry too, Dean. I should never have left. These past few weeks have been torture."

"Ditto," he said. After all that time spent fretting over what he might say to Cas, he took one look at the angel and he knew. "Before you left, you asked me what to do when you find someone who makes you happier than you ever thought you could be," Dean said, having played the conversation over in his mind so many times that Cas's exact words came back to him with ease. "I told you that you should get some distance, that you should run away," he continued. "But I was so wrong."

"You were?" Cas said.

"Yeah," he said, stepping forward so that he and Cas were just an inch apart. He reached out and put his hands on Cas's face, feeling his soft hair beneath his fingertips, and his warm breath on his lips. "You find someone like that," Dean said, "you never _ever_ let them go."

* * *

**A/N I really hope you enjoyed this slightly longer chapter today.**** Please leave me a review if you enjoyed! CMPerry x**


	7. Talking to the Walls

**A/N Hello! Sorry it's been a while. I thought it was about time I took a break from the fluffy endings, so this is something a little darker. Please leave a quick review when you're done and let me know what you think. **

* * *

When Sam and Dean arrived back at the bunker, they couldn't have been in more opposite moods. Dean practically bounced out of the car and through the front door, while Sam followed behind bleakly. By the time he had made it down the metal stairs and through the library, Dean was already exiting the kitchen with a peanut butter sandwich hanging from his mouth. He tried to speak, but all Sam heard was a series of incomprehensible noises. He looked at Dean questioningly.

"Hurry up and grab your stuff," Dean repeated as he swallowed a mouthful of bread.

"We just got back," Sam said.

"You can rest when you're dead, Sam," he insisted, with a stupid grin on his face. "C'mon!" Sam scowled but did as Dean asked, heading to his bedroom and grabbing one of the pre-packed overnight bags he kept by his door. He looked mournfully at his bed, the duvet slightly crumpled from the last time he had slept in it five nights ago. What he wouldn't give to be back there.

He crossed back to Dean's bedroom and waited by the door, watching him throw fresh clothes in to his bag along with a bag of chips and a few cans of soda.

"Want one?" he asked, holding out a can of cola to Sam.

"No."

"Chips?"

"No."

"Want to lighten up?"

"No."

"Jeez," Dean said with a short laugh, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "What's with you?

"Me?!" Sam asked incredulously. "What about you?"

"Ain't nothing wrong with me, buddy. Let's just go." Sam didn't move. "C'mon, daylight's burning, I want to get back on the road!" Dean took Sam's arm, chivvying him from the room. "We've got a lot of ugly-ass monsters to gank. Move, move, move!"

"Dean enough. Just stop!" Sam said, pulling his arm away from his brother and rounding on him. Dean looked taken aback. "Could you just sit down and shut up for thirty seconds? Or better still, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," Dean said, his cheerful disposition slipping ever so slightly.

"Dean."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" he asked sharply, dropping his bag on to the floor. "You want me to tell you all my deepest feelings, maybe cry a little? And then after that maybe we can whip out a guitar and sing Kum Ba Yah." Sam shook his head in exasperation. "Well?" Dean said. "What do you want?"

"I want you react!" he said, his voice rising as he finally lost his temper. "I want you to stop for the first time in four days and react to the fact that Cas is gone, because there is no way in hell you are this okay."

"Yeah well maybe I'm not okay," Dean said, still making a convincing attempt at nonchalance, "but I'm handling it."

"That's just it," Sam said. "You're not handling it, you're ignoring your feelings like you ignore everything else. You can't keep all this crap in."

"Do you even know me?" Dean asked with a mirthless smile. Sam turned towards the door but instead of leaving, he paused and took a deep, steadying breath. He turned back to Dean, fighting to keep calm and said,

"As long as you're holding all of this in, you're a time-bomb and at some point you're going to go off. Maybe one night at dinner or maybe in the middle of a case and I can't spend the next few days, or weeks or months waiting for my brother to fall to pieces. I just can't."

At last Dean's blasé demeanour slipped away altogether. "Sam," he said, shakily. "Don't make me do this."

"You need to face the truth, Dean, before it messes you up inside. You need to feel something."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

Dean shook his head, suddenly agitated, avoiding Sam's eyes and heading for the door. "I can't deal with this right now. I told you, I'm handling it." Dean went to push past his brother but Sam put out his arm to block his escape.

"Talk to him."

"What?" Dean said.

"Talk to Cas."

"Cas is _dead_, Sam." It was the first time either of them had said it aloud, and the words hung suspended in the air before them, stark and raw, and a heavy silence fell. A few moments passed before Sam spoke again.

"You can still talk to him," he said, as Dean sat down slowly on his bed. "I know I do." Sam turned to leave, stopping a second with his hand on the door handle. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean just nodded slowly, head in his hands. "Yeah, me too."

Sam left, closing the door quietly behind him, but something stopped him from returning to his own bedroom. Instead, he slid down the wall and sat at Dean's door. They hadn't spent a moment apart since Cas had died, and he wasn't ready to start now.

He was exhausted as he sat against the cool, hard wall, but the permanent aching that burned in his chest kept him awake, as did his worry for Dean. His brother hadn't slept in days, and whenever he had managed to steal a few minutes rest, it was only to be woken by violent nightmares that jolted him awake on the verge of screaming. Sam had pretended not to notice. He had humoured Dean's attempts at denial for the first few days, but after a while it only made Sam feel weaker for allowing himself to grieve while Dean looked and acted almost normal.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by Dean's low voice coming from his room.

"Cas?" he said. "I don't know if you can hear me… probably not." After that there was silence for almost five minutes, and Sam wondered if Dean had fallen asleep. But then he spoke again.

"I don't know much, Cas, I've never been smart like Sam, but… I know I need you. Ever since I met you, even when I couldn't stand you, I knew that I could never live without you. But now it's like I'm living my worst nightmare and I'm trying so hard to keep it together, man, but how can I when you're -" Sam heard Dean's voice catch in his throat, and Sam felt a lump rise in his own. He heard his brother begin to pace and he wondered if he had done the right thing forcing Dean to free his emotions.

"How could you do this to me?" Dean said, addressing his empty room again, but this time in a much louder voice. "You're a selfish son of a bitch, you know that? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to love you? It's the single worst decision of my life." Dean was almost shouting now. "You just had to come crashing in with your stupid face and your stupid coat and your stupid blue eyes and turn my life upside down as if it wasn't complicated enough already."

And just like that, any personal grief Sam had been feeling for Cas was completely overcome by the sorrow he now felt for his brother. Sam had been waiting six years for Dean to admit he loved Cas, he had been looking forward to this moment almost since the day they met but now that it was here it couldn't have been more tragic or more painful. Because it was too late.

"I'm hanging on by a thread here, man," Dean said, his voice becoming increasingly desperate. "I have been through Hell, literally, but I - I can't get through this. I can't."

Sam heard a thud as Dean fell to his knees and Sam pictured him there in the middle of the floor, just trying to keep breathing as the inexpresable, incomprehensible grief clawed at him from the inside out.

Sam clenched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that were pricking at his eyes as he heard the anguish in Dean's voice. Sam realised then that Dean hadn't been in denial for his own sake, he hadn't been trying to avoid the pain of losing Cas, he had been holding all of his grief back so that Sam wouldn't have to see him like this. Even when he was dying inside, suffering through the worst pain imaginable, he was still trying to protect his little brother. He was still carrying on.

"We could have had something, Cas," Dean said. "We could have had something great but I let you down and I will never forgive myself for that."

Sam heard him move across the room, sitting at the door and resting his head on the wood. There was silence for a long time until at last Sam heard his brother's voice again, quiet and broken.

"Sammy?"

"I'm here."

He didn't say anything else. Long, hollow hours passed by as they sat back to back through the door. They didn't move, they didn't sleep, they didn't speak. Cas was dead. There was nothing more to say.


	8. Happy New Year

**A/N A fluffy New Year themed one this week. Enjoy!**

* * *

The sound of voices reverberating from the high stone walls made the cavernous bunker feel warm and full. Dean looked around at the little get-together that he and Sam had planned for New Years. When they were all in one room together, Dean realised how small his dysfunctional little family really was. There was only Garth and his wife, Jody and Alex, Sam, and Cas, all gathered together around the large table.

He smiled when he thought back to a time when he would have killed half the people in this room on sight because they were monsters. But after ten years, his outlook had changed dramatically. Just because Garth and his wife were werewolves didn't make them monsters, and being human didn't make Dean a good person.

Sometimes he wished things were still as simple as they had been when he and Sammy were hunting Shifters and looking for their father, but when he looked over to his brother - who was laughing at something Jody had just said - he felt almost content for the first time in a long time. Sure, things could be terrible, people had died, they were never going to live a safe or peaceful life, but the little moments like this almost made it all worthwhile.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Dean twisted open another beer and walked over to Cas who was standing slightly outside the rest of the group.

"You're drinking beer?" Dean asked, looking at the bottle in Cas's hand.

"No, it tastes terrible, but people kept offering me a drink so I took one to make them stop." Dean smiled and took a sip from his own bottle. In the short silence, Dean felt the weight of all the things that were waiting to be said. But instead they just continued to make small-talk.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "It feels good to celebrate something for once." He glanced to Cas who was watching him intently, standing, as ever, just slightly too close.

"Listen, Cas, I think we should talk."

"Hey, guys," Sam said, his deep voice rising above the rest. "Ten seconds to midnight!"

They all gathered around the TV, counting down to midnight. At zero, Garth turned and kissed Bess, Jody hugged Alex, and Cas walked straight up to Dean and planted a kiss on his lips. Dean was so startled that he could do nothing except stand there. He glanced around, but everyone else was so busy with their pleasantries that no one had noticed what had just happened. Cas stepped back from him and stared him straight in the eye, waiting for his reaction. The shock and surprise made it impossible for Dean to form any kind of sensible thought, so instead he had to rely completely on instinct. He grabbed Cas by the hands and pulled him back towards him.

"Happy New Year, Cas," he said, as he stood just an inch from his face. He could feel his slow, warm breath on his skin. He lifted the angel's face to his, with two fingers under his chin. Cas looked from Dean's eyes down to his lips.

"Happy New Year, Dean." Cas whispered. Dean caught his lips in his, resuming the kiss that had ended all too soon. He didn't notice the entire room fall silent.

"Holy balls," Garth said. Dean looked around and immediately felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the group, instinctively reaching out and taking Cas's hand. The long silence grew increasingly painful until it was finally broken by Sam who came up behind Dean, wrapped an arm around his neck and planted a big kiss on the side of his head.

"Dude!" Dean said, squirming away from his brother. He turned to look at him and was almost surprised to see a wide grin on his face. He looked delighted. Dean pulled him in to a hug, slapping him heartily on the back in an effort to make the whole gesture just a little more manly.

"Happy New Year, Sammy."

"You too, Dean," he said, grabbing Cas next and hugging him tightly. Cas looked startled for a second before smiling with relief.

"Can I say something?" Garth asked, walking over to Dean and putting his arm around him, drawing everyone's attention back towards him and Cas once again.

"I get the feeling you're going to anyway," Dean muttered.

"This is a room of misfits," he said loudly, gesturing dramatically to the group. "Two lycanthropes, an teenaged almost-vamp, an angel, Satan's vessel, Jody…"

"Hey!" she protested, but Garth continued.

"Every one of us has been judged for who we are and the things we have done. The world judges us every day, looks down on us, but not this man." He patted Dean on the chest and looked up at him with a strange expression of admiration and gratitude. "Sure, when he first met my family he wanted to kill them all, but he has never stopped caring about me or any of you." Dean was getting increasingly embarrassed. He could feel heat gathering in his cheeks as everyone watched him. "He deserves this same respect and acceptance in return. You shall not be judged here, my friend."

"Would you shut up?" Jody said from the back of the group. "Nobody gives a damn if he wants to do a dude." Sam and Alex laughed as Jody walked up to Dean. "I'm so glad you're happy," she said with a smile, taking his face in her hands and kissing him on the cheek. "And Bobby would be too." Dean nodded. He wanted to speak, but he knew his voice would crack, so instead he just returned the smile.

"So how long has this been going on?" Sam asked, seemingly unable to wipe the mischievous grin from his face.

"A couple of weeks," Dean said, clearing his throat. Sam laughed.

"More like a month," he said.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew," said Sam. "I was just waiting until you wanted to tell me." Cas had turned away, standing a little behind Dean, immersed in conversation with Jody. Dean edged a little closer to his brother and asked,

"Is this a really stupid idea?"

"Finally acting on the fact that you're completely in love with Cas? No, I'd say that's a pretty good idea." Dean must have still looked worried because Sam added, "Are you happy?"

He glanced over to Cas who was talking cheerfully to Jody. Cas must have felt his gaze because he turned to Dean and smiled at him. Dean felt the last little speck of doubt vanish from him as he looked back to Sam. "I've never been happier."


	9. Can You Feel the Love Tonight?

**A/N Just a short little headcanon today, couldn't resist throwing Gabriel in to the mix. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

It was just beginning to get dark when Sam came out the back door of the hotel and headed for the car. Dean and Cas were standing a little way away, talking and laughing. Sam packed his things in to the trunk before walking around to the front of the car and leaning against it, watching his brother curiously.

"What do you think they're talking about?" said a voice beside him. Sam glanced around to see Gabriel standing there, leaning slightly on the hood of the car, arms folded.

"No idea," said Sam, watching them talk, unable to hear more than a general mumble and the occasional laugh. Dean said something with a playful smile and reached out to tug on Cas's coat. Cas returned the smile and then looked down at his feet, perhaps trying to hide his embarrassment. When Cas spoke again, Sam took the liberty of providing a voice-over for the scene in front of him. He put on his best gravelly voice and said,

"Dean, we share a profound bond but I can't effectively convey my emotions. So instead I will just stand very close to you and stare longingly in to your eyes." Gabriel chuckled and assumed the role of Dean.

"That's okay, Cas, I act tough but I cry all the time; I'm totally in touch with my emotions. I think you're awesome and I love you more than pie and beer you sexy son of a bitch." They continued watching the conversation, occasionally speculating on what was being said. After a while, Sam realised something.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" he asked. Gabriel gave a kind of nonchalant grunt.

"Death is such a fluid concept." Sam didn't bother asking anymore questions. He had learned over the past decade that sometimes it was easier to accept things rather than fret over the details.

Over by the wall of the hotel, Dean leaned down to pick up his bag, just as Cas did the same thing. They both stood back up at the same time, almost banging heads, and when they straightened up completely, their faces were just inches apart. They both gave the same embarrassed smile, both avoiding eye contact.

"I can see what's happening," said Gabriel.

"And they don't have a clue," said Sam.

Gabriel chuckled again. "I don't know about you, but I think it's about time for some brotherly intervention."

"What do you have in mind?" Sam asked, frowning at the enigmatic angel beside him. Gabriel said nothing, he simply clicked his fingers and Dean and Cas vanished and the bag that Dean had been holding fell to the ground with a soft thump. "What did you do?" Sam asked, straightening up suddenly and turning on Gabriel, towering over the much smaller man.

"Relaaaax," Gabriel said. "They'll be back in twenty four hours."

"Where are they?"

"I sent them upstate to a little log cabin. I hear it gets pretty cold up there this time of year. They might even be snowed in," he added with mock concern. "Pity there's only one blanket and few bottles of scotch to keep them warm."

"Yeah, that's a real shame," Sam said, his worry fading and a little smile crossing his face. They stood for a short while, staring at the spot where their brothers had been standing, the only sound was the occasional car rushing past the front of the hotel.

"You wanna get something to eat?" Gabriel said. Sam looked at him, frowning. There was something strangely likeable about him, but Sam couldn't help feeling suspicious. Past experience told him that he should never completely let his guard down around the trickster.

"You're an angel," he said. "You don't eat."

"I'm an archangel," Gabriel corrected. "I do what I want."

"Fine," Sam said, looking down at his watch. "Seems like I've got time to kill anyway." He walked over to the side of the hotel and picked up Dean's abandoned bag and threw it into the car beside his.

"What do you feel like?" Sam asked, looking up and down the street for nearby restaurants.

"Kielbasa?" Gabriel suggested. It took Sam a few seconds to realise why the word sounded so familiar.

"Uh... no."

* * *

**A/N Thanks for reading! Although these are all one-shots, the next chapter is a sequel to this one, so read on! **


	10. Cabin Fever

**A/N This chapter can be read on it's own, but it is a sequel to the previous chapter. Enjoy! **

* * *

Dean regained consciousness with his face pressed to a cold wooden floor and he heard a groan beside him. Years of habit made him call out automatically for his brother, but as soon as Sam's name had passed his lips he realised that it wasn't Sam beside him. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide as he tried to see through the darkness.

"Cas?!"

"I'm here." Dean searched around until his hand found Cas just a few feet behind him. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Dean said, holding on to Cas's arm. "Last thing I remember we were outside the hotel." It was completely black. Dean could feel the heavy, unbroken darkness pressing against his eyes. He felt suddenly claustrophobic, his pulse beginning to rise as his mind filled with terrible images of what could be surrounding them in the dark, unseen, waiting to strike.

Before his anxiety to grow in to complete panic, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his flashlight, clicking it on and scanning the room. They seemed to be in some kind of cabin, somewhere windy judging by the eerie whistling that floated through the otherwise silent air. And they were entirely alone.

It was a single room, small and square. All it consisted of was a table, a fridge, a bed and a fireplace. Dean stood, pulling Cas up with him. Despite being able to see every corner of the tiny cabin, Dean took his gun from his jeans, holding it tightly as Cas walked over to the window. In the small beam of white light streaming from his flashlight, Dean saw the breath rise from his mouth, and for once it wasn't because of a ghost.

"I can't see a thing," said Cas. Taking one last apprehensive look around, Dean kneeled down to the fireplace, finding it already stacked high with wood. He took a lighter from his jacket pocket and within a few seconds the dry wood was up in flames. It was only then, as the cabin was lit up by a dim orange glow, that Dean realised why it had been so dark before. The windows were piled almost to the top with thick snow, driven up against the side of the cabin by the wind, blocking even the faintest moonlight from entering.

"What the hell are we doing here, man?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Cas said, "but perhaps we should just go." Behind the confusion and trepidation, Dean was a little curious as to why they had been suddenly transported to this strange little shack. But a slight curiosity wasn't enough to keep him here when he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was watching him. Cas walked over to Dean, and raised his hand to Dean's forehead, ready to send them back to the hotel. But nothing happened.

"Uh, Cas," Dean said, watching the angel who had a serious expression of concentration on his face. "I don't think your angel powers are working... I mean, you're pretty much just standing there with your hand on my face."

"I don't understand," Cas said, dropping his hand and frowning deeply.

"Looks like we're going the old-fashioned way then," Dean said, heading to the door and pulling it open. But instead of an exit, he was greeted by a solid wall of snow, completely sealing them in. It was so thick and compressed so tightly against the cabin wall that there was an imprint of the doorknob moulded in to it.

Dean pushed against the snowy barricade but it didn't budge. It would take some time to dig them out, not to mention how long it would take them to drive back from wherever the hell they were, assuming they could find a car. At that moment, Dean was hit by a sudden realisation that sent a wave of cold panic down his spine. They were trapped, but they didn't seem to be in any danger. Maybe the only reason they were up here was to keep them out of the way while Sam was alone at the hotel, unprotected. By the time they got back he could be long gone. Or worse. But before Dean could voice his fears, he heard Cas speak behind him.

"He's alive?"

Dean turned around to see Cas holding a framed photograph that had been sitting on the table.

"Who is?" Dean asked. Cas held out the picture frame to him, and Dean saw with surprise and slight horror that the picture was of Gabriel, smirking suggestively out at them, his false black moustache affixed firmly to his smarmy face. "Son of a bitch," Dean growled.

"I can't believe he's been alive this whole time," Cas said.

"More importantly what the hell has he done with Sam?" Dean asked, dropping the photo back down on to the table. Cas turned to look at him, an unexpected look of anger on his face.

"More importantly?" Cas echoed. "I've just discovered that my brother is alive after months of thinking he was dead. That is important."

"He dies all the time," Dean said, without thinking. Cas let out a disbelieving laugh.

"So do you and Sam! You of all people should know how it feels to find out your brother is back from the dead."

"That's different."

"Because Gabriel is an archangel? He's still my brother, Dean."

"Yeah well right now he's got _my_ brother and I want him back."

"What are you so concerned about? He isn't going to harm him."

"Seriously? Do you know how many times I've died at the hands of that dickbag?"

"Never permanently."

"Does that make a difference?" Dean asked, his own temper flaring. "He killed me over a hundred times and you think he's going to play nice with Sam?"

"This isn't about Sam," Cas said, looking back toward the table.

"This is _entirely_ about Sam," Dean shot back. "While we're stuck up here he's alone with a homicidal nut job."

"Damn it Dean!" Cas snapped, his voice rising, taking Dean by surprise. "The world doesn't revolve around you and Sam. I have tens of thousands of brothers of sisters who I care about as much as you care about Sam. And I have made terrible mistakes and I have killed thousands of them. Imagine how you would feel if you killed Sam, if you watched the light leave his eyes as you drove a blade in to his chest. I have to live with that guilt every single day so don't try and make out that your brother is more important than any of mine. Especially Gabriel."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, shocked by Cas's outburst, but he wasn't finished.

"No, it's not okay," Cas continued, his voice lower now, but just as dangerous. He advanced on Dean, forcing him to walk backwards until he hit the wall with a thud, but Cas didn't stop until he was toe to toe with him. Dean held his breath, remembering with painful clarity exactly how strong Cas could be. "Gabriel isn't insane, he's not a murderer, he's not a nut job, he is my brother and he's back from the dead so maybe you could take your head out of your ass long enough to realise that I might have some feelings about that."

Dean stood frozen, unable to drag his gaze away from the firelight burning in Cas's furious eyes. They stared at each other for several long seconds and then suddenly Cas glanced down to his lips, and the breath caught in Dean's throat.

"Cas," Dean said, his voice cracking slightly. "Are you going to hit me or kiss me?" Another pause, the only sound was of the firewood, crackling and sparking.

"I don't know yet." They both stood frozen for a long moment until Cas seemed to realise what he had said and turned away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing his face. "It's Gabriel I'm angry at, not you."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said, his voice faltering slightly as he took a moment to regain his composure. Dean's eyes followed Cas as he approached the table again, picking up the picture of Gabriel and peeling something from the back of it.

"When I said this had nothing to do with Sam," Cas said, holding out a folded piece of paper to Dean, "I didn't mean he isn't important. But this situation really isn't anything to do with him." Dean took it and saw that it was a letter in neat, almost elegant handwriting.

_Baby Brother,_

_Not dead, by the way. Tell Angry Winchester his brother is fine. You'll probably have noticed I've taken away your powers. I suppose you could say you're grounded until you and Dean do something about your situation. Grounded. Get it? Because you can't fly. I suppose you'll have to find some other way to entertain yourselves... don't say I don't do anything for you. Enjoy little bro. If everything goes well we can double date._

_Lots of hugs and kisses,_

_Gabe_

Dean's initial reaction when he finished the letter was one of confusion. _What does he mean our situation? _Dean thought. _And d__ouble date? What the hell does he mean double date?! _But that feeling of confusion slipped quickly in to anger as he crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in to the fire, frustrated by the lack of control he seemed to have over his own life, especially at the hands of that damn archangel. The fire that had previously cast eerie shadows across the dim cabin flared brightly as Gabriel's letter burned, illuminating the room fully for the first time and revealing it to be much more welcoming than Dean had imagined. The bed looked soft and warm, the thick duvet patterned with red and green plaid with a fluffy brown blanket lying across it. Every piece of furniture was the same rich, dark wood, even the mantelpiece, upon which was a bottle of scotch and two glasses that Dean could have sworn hadn't been there before.

Dean's eyes fell on Cas again, who was glaring in to the fire, looking frustrated and sad in equal measures and Dean felt an involuntary smile cross his face as so often happened when he looked the angel. And much to his surprise, he found himself silently thanking Gabriel.

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Dean said, pouring two glasses of scotch and handing one to Cas, although he had to tap him a few times on the arm before he got his attention. "Sammy is safe?"

"Yes," Cas said, a little snappily. "I've told you that."

"And Gabriel is alive and well?"

"Yes."

"And we're stuck here together in a cozy log cabin with no one to bother us for hours?"

"Yes."

"And we're unhappy about that?"

Cas smiled reluctantly. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Look, Cas, I can't believe I'm saying this but I think Gabriel's right. We have some things to talk about."

Cas nodded. "I think you're right."

Dean looked around and for the first time he realised that there were no chairs. Instead he pulled the blanket from the bed and lay it in front of the fire, sitting himself down and patting the space beside him for Cas to join him.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Cas asked when Dean didn't speak.

"Us, I guess? I feel like things have been a bit different with us these past couple of months, like we've been getting closer."

"Would you like me to stop visiting so often?"

"What? No, that's not what I'm getting at," Dean said, hurriedly. "I mean, I'm happy about it."

"You are?"

"Of course I am, Cas. I..." a rush of panic made him falter, but he forced himself to continue, knowing they would never have another opportunity like this. "I think I might have... fallen for you. A bit." Dean felt himself become suddenly very warm, but refused to take his eyes off of Cas, waiting for his reaction.

"You have?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to tell you in case you freaked out, but I can't keep pretending anymore, man. It's killing me."

Cas looked surprised, then thoughtful, then, at long last, he smiled. "I'm not freaking out," he said.

"Good."

"But I'm still going to kill Gabriel when I see him," he added.

"I think I might kiss him," Dean said.

"He can get in line." Dean laughed, and discarding his glass of scotch, he turned to Cas. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he had been holding on to for years, that he didn't know where to begin. He reached out to touch Cas's face, exploring this sudden new freedom. His thumb brushed against Cas's lip, and the corner of Cas's mouth lifted in a soft smile.

"I love you, Dean." Without a word, Dean caught Cas's lips in his, feeling the rough stubble of his chin, his hands on his neck as Cas pulled him closer, his fingers in his hair. It was everything he had ever imagined it would be. When they parted, Dean felt slightly breathless. He looked at the angel, and could barely believe that he could possibly deserve something so good.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," Dean said, grinning as Cas grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down on to the blanket.

All the while, the picture of Gabriel looked out from the table at the scenario he had so carefully engineered, and he saw that it was good.

* * *

**A/N I really hope you enjoyed this follow-up. Please leave me a quick review, you'll make my day!**


	11. Visiting Hours

**Slightly longer one this week, starring crazy!Cas during his time in the mental hospital.**

* * *

Dean walked along the corridor of the mental hospital, uneasiness twisting at his stomach. When he turned a corner, he saw Meg walking towards him dressed in pale blue scrubs, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders. He could almost feel her angry gaze burning in to him. They stopped face to face outside a locked ward door.

"You finally bothered to turn up," she said, coldly.

"How is he?" Dean asked, ignoring her comment.

"Not good," she said. Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Care to elaborate?" he snapped.

"He's crazier than a bag of cats," she said flatly. "And he asks for you every day. I tried calling you."

"I know that."

"So you just thought you'd ignore me and let your best friend rot in here and pretend he doesn't exist?"

"Shut up, Meg. I'm not going to be lectured on morality by a demon."

"Oh I'm sorry," she sneered. "You're right, clearly I'm the amoral one. Remind me again which one of us has dropped everything to stay with Cas?"

"There's nothing I can do for him!" Dean argued.

"Oh please. You haven't heard him, the things he says. He asks for you all day and then at night he keeps the entire ward awake with his screaming. It's a real treat." The guilt twisting at Dean's stomach became so intense that he thought he might throw up. "Oh wipe that injured puppy look off your face, Dean. If you were so concerned about him, you'd have visited weeks ago."

"Would you just let me see him?" Meg didn't say anything else, she just swiped her card on the panel beside the door and it clicked open.

"First door on the right," she said. Dean could feel his hands shaking. He wasn't aware of putting one foot in front of the other, but a moment later he appeared at Cas's door. He knocked once and entered, terrified by what he might find. Cas was lying on the hospital bed with his back to the door. Dean noticed four cuffs, one on each corner of the bed, ready and waiting to tie the angel down.

"Hey buddy," Dean croaked. Cas sat up slowly and turned around. Dean barely contained a gasp when he saw his face. He was so pale, almost grey, with dark smudges under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in a year.

"Dean?" Cas walked towards him, his blue eyes wide but dull, as though they had lost the life in them. "Are you real?"

"Course I am." Cas stared at him for a moment longer before pulling him in to a hug so tight that Dean stumbled backwards slightly. "Woah, buddy, you okay?" he asked, although realised it was a stupid question.

"I'm a little better now you're here," he said. Dean put his arms around him and returned the embrace, glad for a moment that Cas couldn't see his face. Finally Cas took a step back and smoothed out the front of the hospital gown he was wearing.

"How are you, Dean?" he asked.

"Never mind me. What's going on with you?"

"Not a lot. I think I'm fairly lucid now, but it's hard to tell." He frowned and stared down at his bare feet. "It's frightening," he said, quietly, "not being able to trust your own mind." Dean was unable to hold himself together any longer, and he felt hot tears build in his eyes.

"Cas, what can I do?" he asked, his voice cracking with desperation. But instead of answering him, Cas replied with another question.

"What time is it?"

"About 7."

"A.M. or P.M.?"

"P.M."

Cas looked out the window at the gathering dark and looked confused for a second, as though realising that he should have known it was night time. "Will you stay with me?" he asked, he looked up at Dean before adding, "I don't like it here at night."

"Of course," Dean said. "Anything you need."

"Thank you." Cas turned and sat back down on the bed. "If I start acting strangely, I'm sorry. I don't mean to."

"Hey, don't you worry about any of that," Dean said. "It doesn't matter to me. I'll be here no matter what." Cas fiddled sadly with the edge of the white bed sheet and Dean sat beside him. "You look exhausted."

"I am."

"Can't you sleep?"

"No, I'm a celestial being, I don't have the ability."

"Have you ever tried?" Dean asked.

"I don't know how."

"Come here," Dean said, suddenly determined to do something good for Cas. He kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed, pulling Cas towards him. "Lie down," he commanded, and Cas obeyed, childlike. Dean put his arm around him and Cas lay his head on Dean's chest. "Just relax." But Cas remained staring straight ahead at the wall.

"Cas, baby, close your eyes." He did as he was told but for a few long minutes Dean knew he was still wide awake, his breathing shallow and a little uneven, but Dean wasn't prepared to give up on this yet. He absent-mindedly traced little circles on Cas's arm with his finger tips, feeling the angel's skin warm against his. He couldn't think of any words that could make Cas better, so he hoped more than anything that, celestial being or not, Cas would manage to drift off into oblivion for a while.

Ten more minutes passed when at last, Dean saw him fall asleep. His tense shoulders visibly relaxed, his breathing became deep and even and the frown that marred his forehead vanished, leaving him looking peaceful again. Dean didn't know how long he watched him sleep. Hours probably. At some point in the middle of the night, Meg came to the door, and Dean looked at her with such aggressive warning that she backed straight out again. No one was going to wake his angel, not until he had slept for as long as he wanted.

* * *

When Dean opened his eyes, the room was full of sunlight and Cas wasn't beside him. Dean sat up and glanced around to find him crouched in the corner of the white room, hands on his head, muttering to himself. Dean approached him tentatively.

"Cas? You okay?" He didn't even look up, he just continued muttering something incomprehensible. Dean crouched beside him, reaching out to touch his arm, but Cas jerked away from him, his voice rising slightly, but still not breaking the stream of words that Dean realised was fast and fluent Enochian. Before he could say anything else, Dean heard the door click open. He turned to see Meg standing in the doorway again. Taking one last look at Cas, Dean stood and joined her in the hallway.

"What's going on with him?" She peered in to the room and observed the hunched shape in the corner.

"He's bat-shit crazy. That's what's going on with him." Dean held back the stab of anger he felt at Meg's callousness.

"He wasn't like this last night."

She pointed through the little window and said, "_That _is one of the many variations of Cas running around in that messed up little melon of his. He's not the same Cas you met a few hours ago."

"How many others are there?"

"Hell if I know. I've seen Dopey, Grumpy, Bashful... you met Clingy last night. And then there's Bitey, Screamy and Suicidey." Dean felt the colour drain from his face. She observed Cas for a little longer before adding, "I don't know what to call this one."

"What can I do?" he asked, so worried for Cas that he didn't even care that he showing weakness in front of the demon.

"There's nothing you can do," she said.

"There must be something."

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Meg said, turning on him. "You think I haven't tried _everything_ to make him better? It kills me seeing him like this so quit acting like you're the only one who's affected by this you self-absorbed ass." Dean just stared at her, taken aback by her sudden outburst, but more than that, by the genuine emotion in her voice. But as quickly as it arrived, her anger vanished to be replaced by an expression of complete defeat. "Then again, I'm not the one he calls out for in the middle of the night," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Maybe you can do something I can't."

Dean went back in to the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He watched Cas, with no idea how he was supposed to help Cas when a hospital full of doctors couldn't.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Dean asked. Cas bent his head lower, hiding his face. "After you dragged me out of hell I mean. You were so dramatic and serious with your big angel wings." Cas had stopped talking to himself, and he had gone still, so Dean kept going. "And I thought you were the biggest ass I'd ever met, so I stabbed you. I never thought you'd turn out to be my best friend."

"I remember," Cas whispered. "I think." He lowered his hands from his face and turned to Dean. Dean walked over to him and extended his hand to him, helping Cas to his feet.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Cas said. "If… if a person is made up of all of their memories, what happens when you can't trust those memories?" he said, looking worried. "I'm scared I'm losing myself."

"You listen to me," Dean said, taking Cas's face in his hands. "You are Castiel, angel of the Lord who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition." Cas smiled a little, seemingly relieved that he remembered those familiar words. "I won't let you go anywhere. I promise you."

Cas nodded slowly. It had only been an hour since he had woken but he looked drained again, unrecognisable as the angel Dean had met a few years ago.

"I never wanted any of this," Dean said. "Maybe... maybe we could have found some other way to save Sammy," but even as he said it, Dean knew that had never been an option. "You should never have had to go through this, Cas."

"Even if there had been another way to save Sam, I would still have volunteered to take this burden from him."

"Why?"

"Because Sam is your brother. You love him. I couldn't let you lose someone you love."

"But if you don't get better, I'm gonna lose you." Cas just smiled sadly.

"You can live without me, Dean. You can't live without Sam."

"No, that's not true," Dean said. He blinked and he felt hot tears slip down his face. "I need you, Cas, I always will." There were tears in Cas's eyes now too, and Dean couldn't do anything but pull Cas in to his arms, selfishly seeking comfort from the very person he was supposed to be looking after.

"Break it up lovebirds," came Meg's voice from behind them. She smiled at Cas, a kind of dejected smile that didn't quite touch her eyes, as though she was wearing it as a mask. She handed Cas a little cup of pills. "You're looking better," she commented.

"I feel better," Cas said. Meg gave his arm a quick squeeze, her smile genuine this time.

"I'm glad." She turned to leave but when she reached the door she turned back. "You know they say love is just a kind of madness."

"So?" Dean asked.

"So," she said, turning to him with a smirk. "It looks like we're all mad here." She closed the door behind her, leaving Dean with Cas, who was staring at him, head tilted slightly. Dean looked in to Cas's inquisitive blue eyes.

"Was she right?" Cas asked. "Are you…crazy?"

"About you?" Dean asked. "I'm a freakin' lunatic."

* * *

**A/N Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you've enjoyed any of these stories so far, your feedback means the world.**


	12. Starry Starry Night

Dean looked at his reflection in the dark car window, running his fingers through his hair until it was sitting exactly the way he liked it.

"Would you get over here?" Sam said, who had been holding out a cold bottle of beer for him for almost a minute.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean said, finally turning away from his reflection. He joined his brother sitting on the hood of the car, staring up at the sky. They had taken something of a detour out in to the desert, away from civilisation and the city lights so they could watch the stars like they used to when they were younger. The silence and the stillness helped lay to rest the worries and expectations that ran constantly around in their heads. Sam looked over at Dean.

"Your hair looks exactly the same as it did when you rolled out of bed this morning."

"I think I look fabulous," Dean said, with a supermodel style pout. Sam laughed and handed him his beer.

"Jeez, Dean, how gay are you?" Dean was about to laugh off Sam's question, but some strange kind of determination took over him. He put his bottle on the ground and turned to his brother.

"I'm not going to lie to you, man. I _am_ gay. Well, bi probably." Sam grinned over at him but his smile dropped when he realised Dean wasn't kidding.

"Are you serious?" There was a long pause as Dean braced himself to let go of the secret he had been holding so tightly to.

"Yeah, me and Cas are a thing," he said, trying to make it sound as casual as he could.

"You're… what?" Sam asked. He was staring at his brother with apparent disbelief, mouth slightly open.

"We just hook up from time to time, it's not a big deal."

"Hey," Sam said, sharply, his demeanour changing rapidly from surprise to anger. "You'd better not mean that, because if you're leading Cas on I will kill you." It was Dean's turn to look surprised.

"Uh… this wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting."

"Give me a break Dean, the entire planet knew about your feelings for Cas before you did. But you'd better not screw him over. He deserves better."

"Okay, Sammy, chill," Dean said raising his hands in surrender. "I'm into him, okay? Like, a lot." Sam's aggressive expression dropped and a smile spread across his face.

"I knew it."

"Let's just put a pin in the emotional crap, I don't wanna talk about it."

"Do you love him?" Sam asked, grinning at him like a lunatic, as though he had been waiting for this moment for years.

"Shut up, Sam."

"Yeah, but do you?"

"I said can it, Sam. I'm not talking about this."

"He loves you."

"I know that."

"So do you love him?"

"Sammy I swear to God if you don't drop this subject I will drop you."

"Fine," he said, exasperated but still amused, tossing his empty bottle in to the cooler and retreating back into the car. Once the door slammed shut, Dean glanced quickly up to the star-littered sky.

"I don't know if you heard any of that," he said in to the silence. "But I do... y'know… love you. Or whatever."

"I love you too," came Cas's deep voice from beside him. Dean almost leaped in to the air with surprise. Cas was standing just an inch away from his face, a little smile on his lips. Heart still banging against his ribs, completely forgetting that Sammy was in the car, Dean took Cas's hands and pulled him in to a kiss. A few seconds later, Sam started pounding on the horn of the car and cheering.

"Can we go?" Dean asked, feeling suddenly flustered by his audience. The words were barely out of his mouth before they disappeared from the dark, sandy expanse of the Arizona desert and reappeared in what looked like an incredibly expensive hotel room. Dean felt himself relax instantly now that he was alone with Castiel. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Dubai."

"Sweet," Dean said, eyeing up the huge television, the king sized bed, and the entire apple pie waiting for him on the end table. He caught Cas's eye and grinned, putting his arm around the angel's shoulders and pulling him in beside him, pressing his lips to his forehead. "I love it."

"I thought you might."

* * *

Sam sat in the car for a short while, trying to wipe the grin from his face. He couldn't believe that Dean and Cas had finally acted on the fact that they were completely and utterly devoted to each other. It was about time they got a bit of happiness, they deserved that. Sam slid over to the driver's seat, ready to start the long drive back to the motel. He reached for the keys in the ignition but his hand fell through the air, finding nothing. He glanced around the car, checked his pockets and then realised that the keys were still in Dean's jacket.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. For a second he considered hot-wiring the car, but Dean would almost definitely murder him if he started stripping wires and tampering with his Baby. So instead, he stepped out of the car in to the almost complete blackness, grabbed two blankets, another beer and a bag of chips from the trunk and settled down for a long, cold night in the dark. He should have been pissed, angry at Dean for forgetting all about him, but he could feel the involuntary smile still on his lips and knew that he didn't mind one bit.


	13. New Dawn, New Day, New Life

Dean walked alone down the dark street, a cold wind whipping around him, and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen.

_Sam calling…_

He clicked reject, sending the phone call to join the other fifteen missed calls from his brother, and shoved the cellphone back in to his pocket. Somewhere along the street he heard the metallic clang of a trashcan falling over but he thought nothing of it, assuming it was a result of the wind, or some drunk guy staggering home from a night on the Strip. But then he heard a woman cry out. He immediately broke in to a run, sprinting towards the noise until he came across two figures grappling at the entrance to a narrow, unlit street. One was a woman, desperately clinging to her purse while a much taller, broader man was trying to pull it from her.

"Hey," Dean called. The man looked up, and doubled his efforts to steal the bag before Dean could reach him. Finally, the bag slipped from the woman's hands and he turned to flee. In a few long strides, Dean caught up with him, grabbed him by the collar and threw him back down the dark side-street. He stood facing Dean, who was standing poised to grab him if he tried to run again. The man looked about fifty, with a scruffy beard and wild looking eyes that were darting around, looking for a way out.

"Hand it over," Dean commanded, reaching his hand out for the purse. Instead the man pulled a short knife from the back of his jeans. Dean looked at it with slight amusement.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. The man lunged for him but Dean easily overpowered him, grabbing him by the wrist and neck and pinning him swiftly against the wall. "Drop it." The man stared at him, his small eyes frightened now. The knife fell to the ground with a high pitched clatter and Dean reached out with his foot and kicked it to the other side of the road. "Now the purse," he ordered. The man hesitated this time and Dean pushed a little harder on his neck. He spluttered and coughed, managing to choke out,

"Okay, okay." He dropped the purse and Dean released him at last. The man doubled over, panting, his hands massaging his neck. "You're a crazy person," he gasped, looking up at Dean.

"Get out of here, assclown," Dean growled, straightening the guy up by the front of his shirt and tossing him roughly on to the main street. As soon as he was on the open road, the man ran and didn't stop even as he disappeared around the corner. Dean dusted himself off, feeling his pulse a little quicker than normal from the short fight, but he didn't feel any of the usual exhilaration. He just felt numb.

The woman was standing at the street corner, pressed against the wall, clutching at her coat and staring at Dean with slight concern. Dean picked up the purse and handed it back to her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. She took a long look at Dean, and, apparently deciding that he wasn't a threat, she added, "thank you."

"What are you doing out here alone?" Dean asked. "It's 3am."

"I was out with some friends," she said, "but they all went home. My house is only a couple streets away. I thought I'd be okay."

"Let me walk you home then," Dean offered, with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She thanked him again as they made their way along the road and introduced herself as Marlene. As they walked under the street lamps, her face came in and out of view, lit up by the yellowish glow from above. Dean supposed she was quite pretty, maybe a little younger than him, with long dark hair. Their walk took around ten minutes, and over the course of it, her shock seemed to dissipate and she became cheerful and talkative.

Soon they reached her front door.

"Would you like to come in for a coffee?" she asked. "I really owe you for helping me out." She held the door open for him, her eyes promising more than a hot drink. Dean considered her offer for a moment. They had only just met… she could be a crazy demon or a witch or a shifter…

"Sure," he said, at last. "Why the hell not." They stepped in to the warmth together. She clicked on a light on her way to the kitchen while Dean looked around. Her house was small but well kept, open plan with all-neutral furniture. It looked like something from a catalogue. Dean wandered around the living room, examining the few ornaments and framed photographs as Marlene started brewing the coffee. A moment later, however, he heard footsteps behind him and he turned around to see her standing close behind him.

"I don't really want coffee," she admitted, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss Dean softly on the lips. More out of habit than desire, Dean kissed her back, one hand moving to her hair while the other wrapped around her waist.

"It was only a purse," Dean said a few moments later, as she started pulling him by the hand up the stairs.

"This isn't about the purse." Dean looked at her questioningly. "Basically," she explained, "you're incredibly hot." Dean smiled as she continued. "You only get one shot at life, Dean. I'm not going to waste mine on missed opportunities. Do what makes you happy. And right now I want to do you." He laughed.

"I think you might be on to something there," he said. She gave him a mischievous grin and he hurried up the stairs after her.

* * *

The rising sun filled the unfamiliar room with orange light as Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Marlene rolled over with a soft moan, shuffling further under the covers. Dean looked at her, with her makeup smudged and her hair sticking up a little, and realised in the warm morning light that she was even prettier than he had thought. He kept thinking back to what she had said on the stairs about missed opportunities and seizing the moment. He had been running from everything for weeks, from his brother, from Cas, his feelings. But lying there he realised with a rush of mingled relief and fear that he couldn't run anymore. Because no matter how hard he tried, even after having great sex with a beautiful woman, all he could think about was an angel in a trench coat.

He picked up his cell from the bedside table. He had two more missed calls from Sam and three texts.

_-Dean where are you? _

_-Please call me back._

_-Dean I swear to God if you don't contact me soon I'm going to hunt you down and beat you to death. Cas is really worried. So am I. _

He slipped out of bed and dressed quietly, trying to spare himself the awkward early morning conversation. Marlene didn't even stir. He was about to walk out the front door when he felt a little stab of guilt and doubled back to scrawl a quick goodbye on the notepad by the phone.

_Stop wandering the streets at night, you'll get yourself killed… or rescued by a devastatingly handsome stranger. One or the other._

_P.S. Thanks for the advice. Going to do what makes me happy._

As he emerged in to the still morning, he couldn't help the bounce in his step as he walked across town. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialled.

The phone barely rang once before a concerned voice answered.

"Dean?" Just the sound of his voice was enough to make Dean feel more alive than he had in weeks.

"Hey, Cas."

"Where are you?"

"Relax, buddy," he said, and even as he spoke he could hear Sam's agitated voice in the background. "I'm coming home."

"You've been gone for almost a month, Dean. What have you been doing?"

"Oh you know," he said, spotting his car in the distance, "having an identity crisis, trying to come to terms with the fact that you might be the love of my life. The usual."

There was silence from the other end of the phone, and he instantly regretted his off-the-cuff remark.

"Uh, Cas? You there?" Dean waited for a reply, feeling increasingly tense despite only a couple of seconds passing by.

"Yes, I'm here," Cas said eventually, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Now hurry up and come home to me." Dean grinned as he approached the car, because he knew that every step was bringing him closer to Kansas, closer to happiness, and closer to Cas.

* * *

**A/N Feel free to leave a review, positive or constructive! It's so helpful to hear from you guys.**


	14. Online Dating

**A/N Sorry for my long absence! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Dean drove along the winding road, nothing but flat brown fields and a ribbon of black tarmac to be seen. She had told him that the bar was about five miles outside the town of Russell, so he thought he must be close. Unless he had taken a wrong turn or read the directions wrong or…

But before he could think of any more reasons to worry, a building came in to view, a solitary bar in the middle of nowhere. Dean pulled up in front of it and immediately realised that his was the only car in the lot, he was surrounded completely by motorcycles, black and shining in the evening sun. _I should have known, _he thought to himself with a little smile. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the dating app where he'd met Emily, or rather HellsAngel67 as she'd called herself in her username. He took one last look at her picture to make sure he would recognise her when he entered the unfamiliar bar. She was very pretty with dark hair and brown eyes, with red lipstick and the outline of a tattoo peeking out from beneath her dark green tank top.

He checked his watch. It was only 5.45pm, he was early, and unusually nervous. He waited a little longer in the safety of his car, looking around the familiar interior and he found his thoughts wandering towards its previous owner. He wondered what John Winchester would have thought about him dating a girl he'd met on the internet. No doubt he wouldn't approve. Even though he was long dead, Dean couldn't help the automatic pang of guilt at the thought of disappointing his father. He checked his watch again and only a minute had passed but he was becoming too nervous to remain stationary any longer. He stepped out in to the mild evening air and entered the biker bar.

As soon as he set foot inside he realised there had been no need to memorise Emily's face; there wasn't a single woman in the room, it was nothing but enormous, burly, bearded men. Dean walked up to the bar and ordered a beer, periodically scanning the room, listening intently through the low rumble of male voices for any hint of a female presence. If he hadn't been so preoccupied he would have appreciated the look of the bar. It was a little dim but homely, and it reminded Dean of Bobby's house. The whole place had a lived-in feel, the floors were scuffed, the seats were worn, the felt on the pool tables was beginning to peel, and the air still smelled of cigarettes, as though the entire bar was clinging to the memories of a time long past.

Dean switched between checking his watch and checking the clock above the bar, convinced that one of them must be wrong. At first he worried about possible conversation topics and making a fool of himself, but after a short while his biggest concern was that he was being stood up. He tried to convince himself that she was still coming, after all, they'd really hit it off. They had been texting back and forth for almost a week and she seemed funny and clever, not to mention beautiful.

A big, leather-clad man pushed past him on his way to the bar and Dean apologised hastily, despite not being the one at fault, and it was then that he realised how out of place he felt, and perhaps even a little threatened. No one had cast him so much as a sideways glance since he had arrived but nevertheless he pressed his arm a little closer to his side to feel the comforting presence of his gun in his jacket pocket. But as he checked his watch again, he forgot all about feeling intimidated as his thoughts returned to Emily.

By 6.20pm he was genuinely concerned by her absence. By half past, he resigned himself to the fact that his date wasn't coming. With his very last scrap of hope, he got up from his bar stool and wandered around the periphery of the room, wondering if perhaps Emily had been sitting just out of sight this whole time and was feeling just as disheartened as he was. He was half way around the room when he glanced in to one of the booths and recognised the face looking back at him.

Dean sat down opposite, poorly concealing his disappointment.

"You look nothing like your picture," he said dryly.

"I admit it was taken a few years ago," Cas joked.

Dean didn't return his smile. "What the hell are you doing here, Cas?"

"I heard your prayers."

"I haven't said any prayers," he said shortly.

"Well you think very loudly," Cas said with a small shrug. "I heard you when you started to worry that your blind date wasn't going to show up and you seemed disappointed…" He trailed off, suddenly sitting up a little straighter and glancing around like a child who had spotted something shiny. "Do you feel that?" he asked.

"What?" Dean asked impatiently. Had he not been so frustrated at being stood up, he might have taken Cas's concerns a little more seriously.

Cas just shook his head, seemingly unable to pinpoint exactly what was troubling him. "Nothing," he said. "There's just something off about this place." Dean didn't feel the mysterious feeling, he just continued glaring at Cas.

"Like I said," Cas continued, glancing around once more before his attention finally returned to Dean. "I came to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Dean said.

"No you're not, you're only on this date because of what I said last week."

"Look, it's for the best," Dean said. "I'm sorry, man, but I think we should just forget about all of that."

"That's not your decision," Cas said, his voice rising. "I have spent the last six years with my feelings for you burning a hole in my chest, you don't get to brush yours under the carpet."

"Who said I had feelings for you?" Dean said defensively, instinctively lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. Cas just shot him a derisive look. "Okay, fine, maybe I do," Dean continued under his breath, "but there's a reason I haven't acted on them. It's a terrible idea, it'll never work, and we're both just going to end up hurt."

"Don't you think it's worth the risk? Don't you think _we're _worth the risk?"

"I'm sorry Cas," Dean said. It's selfish but the last thing I need is someone else that can be used as leverage against me. There's always going to be someone out to get me and if something happened to you I don't think I'd be able to come back from that."

"Nothing will happen to me," Cas said.

"Dude, you've died four times since I met you."

"And I've always come back to you," Cas persisted. "It's a dangerous life, Dean, we're always going to be at risk, whether we're together or not."

"I can't take any more loss, Cas," Dean said.

"I can't promise to stay alive, but I can promise to stay with you for the rest of my life, Dean," Cas said, his patience failing and his voice rising. "Why isn't it enough that I love you?"

Dean was about to warn him to keep his voice down, but it was too late. The four large men who had been shooting pool a few feet away had overheard them. They exchanged glances before laying down their cues and advancing on Dean and Cas in their booth. Dean stood automatically, placing himself between Cas and the men and he was concerned to find that, even at 6'2", he was still dwarfed by the group of bikers as they surrounded them. Dean had been so preoccupied by the bearded man who was approaching him that he didn't notice another biker slip behind him and sit across the booth from Cas. The bar fell silent and Dean felt his pulse begin to rise as he realised they were surrounded. How much had they overheard? And what were they going to do about it?

The man across from Cas had his hands under the table and Dean immediately wondered what he was concealing. Then a few things happened in very quick succession. The man began to lift his hand out from under the table, Dean grabbed for his gun inside his jacket, but the bearded man grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Relax, kid," said the man, as the biker in the booth took his hand out from under the table and extended it to the angel. Cas shook his hand, looking a little surprised, and the bearded man released his grip on Dean's arm.

"My friends call me Bear," said the man, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Dean," he replied, still a little wary, but he let go of the butt of his gun and shook the man's large hand nonetheless.

"Haven't seen you boys around here before," said Bear over the rumble of voices as the people in the bar resumed their own conversations.

"We're just passing through," Dean said vaguely, not taking his eyes off of Cas who was now talking cheerily with the man opposite, clearly feeling none of the apprehension that had Dean on edge.

"That your car out there?" asked Bear, glancing out the window.

"Yeah," Dean said, ready to jump to the defence of his four-wheeled ride.

"67 Impala?"

"Yeah," Dean said again, a little surprised.

"Don't make 'em like that anymore."

"They sure don't," Dean agreed, suddenly feeling a little more at ease around this man. His bushy eyebrows and thick, wiry beard didn't look quite so menacing anymore. All Dean could really see were his eyes, friendly, and, for some reason, almost familiar. Bear walked over to the bar and slapped a fifty down on to the scraped wood.

"Beers all round, Andy," he said to the bartender. "You play pool?" he added to Dean.

"Play?" Dean echoed. "It's how I make my living." Bear laughed, grabbed a beer from the bar and set up the balls. Dean had only taken his eyes off Cas for a moment, but when he looked back around, the angel was surrounded by bikers, dealing cards for a game of poker. Dean marvelled at the angel for a moment, making friends and playing cards, almost unrecognisable as the man he'd met six years ago.

Although Dean played two games of pool and made conversation with Bear for over an hour, his attention never really left Cas. After Cas won his seventh hand in a row, Dean hurried over to him.

"Reading minds is cheating," Dean muttered in to Cas's ear. Cas turned to look at him and smiled.

"I'm not cheating," he said. "You just taught me well."

"Well you might want to lose the next couple of games or no one's gonna want to play with you."

"Noted," Cas said, scraping his winnings from the middle of the table towards him. Dean walked back to Bear to finish his game. As he approached the pool table he noticed Bear was watching him closely.

"Now are you going to tell me what you boys were fighting about earlier?" he asked.

"It's not important," Dean said, leaning down to pot a yellow ball.

"Let me guess," Bear said. "Your daddy was a military man."

Dean looked up at him, surprised by this seemingly abrupt change of subject. "Yeah."

"And he brought you up to be tough, no room for feelings, especially if those feelings are for another man."

Dean stared at him for a moment, a little bewildered to be having this conversation with a 300lb biker. "I guess," he said eventually.

"So you're scared to admit your feelings to that guy over there because that would mean making yourself vulnerable and disappointing your father all at once."

"You seem to know me better than I do," Dean muttered, a little embarrassed by how obvious his feelings for Cas must be.

"You listen to me," Bear said sternly, and Dean looked up at him, "you're lucky have someone you love and who loves you back. And you'd have to be some kind of moron to let an opportunity like that get away from you, because if you're not careful you'll wake up one morning, your life will be behind you and you'll be alone."

"Yes sir," Dean said automatically. He paused for a second, realising that he'd just spoken to a near stranger as if he were speaking to his father. He was about to mumble an awkward apology but Bear just gave a short laugh and continued.

"My wife died," he said. "And I've been too angry at the world to find anyone else, so I know what I'm talking about. Still, I get to see my son every now and again, so every cloud."

"Does your kid ride a bike too?" Dean asked.

"You kidding me?" Bear said. "Those things are death traps, I wouldn't let him near one."

Dean laughed. "He's lucky to have a dad like you."

"Damn straight," Bear replied, straightening up from the table to look Dean in the eye. "I'd do anything for that boy."

The rest of the evening passed in amicable conversation until the barman called last orders. Bear looked at the clock, apparently surprised at how late it had gotten.

"Looks like we kinda ruined your date," he said, just as Cas came over to join them at the pool table. Cas looked tentatively at Dean, apparently trying to gauge his mindset. With Bear's words still at the forefront of his mind, Dean looked at Cas and felt all of his worries and doubts fall still, he felt at peace, and his mind felt clear.

"Don't worry about it," Dean said. He was addressing Bear, but his eyes were fixed firmly on Cas as he reached out and took his hand. "We've got the rest of our lives."

* * *

Dean and Cas said their goodbyes and headed out in to the car. Bear stood at the window, watching the car drive from the parking lot and the taillights getting smaller and smaller. He smiled to himself, feeling for the first time in his life that those boys were going to be okay.

"Idjits," he muttered, as the car finally vanished in to the night. Behind him, a man appeared from nowhere, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Ready to go back to Heaven, Bobby?"

"As I'll ever be," he said, scratching at his bushy beard. "I just can't wait to be out of this damned disguise."

* * *

**A/N Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review if you have a second. **


	15. Ignorance is Bliss

Sam slumped down in to the chair, slightly out of breath and little damp from his morning run. He gulped down half a bottle of water wondering why Dean wasn't awake yet. At that very moment he heard Dean's bedroom door open and his footsteps approaching down the corridor, and Sam braced himself for the inevitable teasing when Dean realised he had been exercising. But his brother didn't even mention it as he entered the kitchen wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a little smile.

"Mornin' Sammy," he said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as he passed him on the way to the fridge. He took out the milk, grabbed a bowl and poured himself an enormous serving of cereal that he immediately started eating by the shovel full.

"What's with you?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," he replied through a mouthful of Cheerios. "I'm not allowed to be happy in the mornings?"

"It's the afternoon actually," Sam said, checking the clock to see that it had just passed midday. He continued to watch his brother curiously, wondering what could be wrong. Sam shook his head slightly, lamenting the fact that their lives had got to the point where seeing Dean happy was so rare that it was considered suspicious.

"So…" Sam said. Dean looked up at him.

"So what?"

"You're not going to make fun of me?" he asked. Dean took an impassive glance at his sweat-darkened t-shirt and shorts and he shrugged.

"For going out on a run? Whatever makes you happy man, I'm not gonna judge." Sam opened his mouth to voice his confusion when Cas walked in to the kitchen. He looked completely different in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, his hair fluffy and unkempt. Sam wondered why the angel had bothered to change his clothes when there was no need for him to shower or sleep.

"Good morning, Sam," Cas said, sitting himself down at the table. "Dean," he added. Sam didn't miss the little smile that pulled at the corner of the angel's mouth when he met Dean's eye.

Sam's mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide as he looked from his brother to the angel. He found himself suddenly on his feet. In his haste he knocked over his water bottle which spilled all over the wooden table, running towards Dean and pooling around his cereal bowl. He stared at the bottle, went to pick it up, changed his mind, stared at Dean, then at Cas, then hurried from the room without another word.

The next thing he knew he was pacing his bedroom, thoughts and realisations flying so quickly through his mind that he couldn't focus on any of them. He heard footsteps and turned to see Dean leaning on the doorframe, watching him carefully.

"Something wrong, Sammy?" he asked. He continued pacing with no idea where to begin.

"You and Cas?" he blurted out at last. "You. And Cas. I mean… when did… what… I don't…"

"If you could finish a sentence at some point that'd be super," Dean said. Sam paused for a moment before turning to his brother.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. Dean's lighthearted smile dropped instantly.

"I'm doing what makes me happy."

"He's an angel, Dean. And he's -" Sam cut himself short, too shocked and uncomfortable to finish.

"No, go on," Dean said. "Say it."

"He's a guy!" Sam said at last, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

"So?"

Sam saw the anger in Dean's eyes and realised that he was treading on thin ice. He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not saying I've got a problem with it, but I wish you'd told me," he said. "It's just a surprise, that's all."

"Jeez, Sammy, what show have you been watching?" Dean asked. "You really never saw this coming?"

"Cut me some slack," he said. "I just never thought you were…"

"Gay? I'm not. I still dig chicks most of the time but c'mon Sam, this is Cas we're talking about. He's always been my exception." There was a long silence after that, and Dean waited coolly for Sam's next words, although Sam could see the anxiety behind Dean's pretend nonchalance.

"You love him?" Sam asked, and almost instantly a small smile crept on to Dean's face.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Before Sam could say anything else, Cas walked in and stood beside Dean.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, frowning slightly as he looked from Dean to Sam.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said, slipping his hand in to Cas's and watching his brother carefully. "Everything alright?" Sam's eyes narrowed slightly, Dean's deliberate provocation not escaping his notice. But then he just shook his head slightly and smiled.

"Whatever makes you happy, man," he said. "I'm not gonna judge." Dean laughed as Sam repeated his own words back to him. All three of them stood in Sam's room for a moment longer, no one quite sure what to do.

"C'mon," Sam said eventually, turning to his bed and picking up a newspaper. "I think I've found us a case in Idaho."

"Great," Dean said, turning to leave, still holding Cas's hand. "Hey, Sammy," he said, turning back to face his brother just as he reached the doorway and smiling warmly at him.

"Yeah?"

"Jogging is for losers."

Sam laughed. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

**A/N So I felt like deviating from the usual "Sam knew all along" storyline, I hope you enjoyed. And please leave a quick review. Getting feedback from you makes my day. Take care.x **


	16. Despair

**A/N This one is set right after episode 8.08 Hunteri Heroici. Enjoy! Or maybe 'enjoy' isn't quite the right word...**

* * *

"Cas are you sure you're okay?" Dean asked, watching his friend carefully. They had only just returned to the bunker from Oklahoma City and Cas was already preparing to leave.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said, but his deep frown said otherwise. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam who was sitting at his desk in the cavernous study, and stepped closer to Cas to avoid being overheard.

"Yesterday you told me you were worried you might kill yourself. I mean, I know you're not human, but you can't be okay."

"Dean, really, I'm fine," he insisted, this time sounding almost convincing. "I will only be gone for a few days."

"I really wish you'd let me come with you."

"I think I need a little time to myself," Cas said. "I have a lot to think about."

"Okay," Dean said reluctantly. "But you call me if you need _anything._"

"Of course," Cas said.

"C'mere," said Dean, grabbing Cas and pulling him in to a tight hug. "Cut yourself some slack okay?"

Cas didn't reply, he just flashed Dean a halfhearted smile, called his farewell to Sam and left the bunker, leaving Dean with a frown on his forehead and a knot in his stomach. Once he was out of sight, Dean walked slowly over to his brother and sat beside him, his eyes still on the door.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, man," Dean said. "I really don't know."

* * *

Dean was woken suddenly by the shrill sound of his cell phone. It took him a second to get his bearings, turning over to face his bedside table where the clock read 3:47am. He fumbled around for the source of the noise, grabbing his phone and answering it, his eyes too bleary and the screen too bright to see who it was.

"Hello?" he croaked.

"Dean."

"Cas?" Dean sat up abruptly. There was a long silence and Dean held his breath. At last Cas spoke again but his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I'm not okay."

"I'm coming to get you." Dean said, standing up, flicking on the light and looking around for his boots. "Where are you?" There was another pause.

"Bolivia."

"Bolivia? What are you doing there?"

"I thought I wanted some time alone but… it just made everything worse. I was right before, Dean. I don't deserve to live when I've killed so many angels."

"Don't talk like that, Cas. Whatever you've done, whatever mistakes you've made, you're a good man." Dean found himself pacing the floor, cold panic rushing through him in waves.

"They were my brothers and sisters, Dean. They have been by my side for millennia and I just… _destroyed_ them. How can I forgive myself for that?"

"It'll get better, Cas. I promise," Dean said, but the words sounded feeble against the anguish in Cas's usually level voice. "Don't do anything stupid."

"How would you feel if you completely lost control and when you finally resurfaced you realised you had killed Sam? Just walked up to him and snapped his neck like your entire life together meant nothing."

Dean's hands were trembling as he held the phone to his ear. "You're right, Cas," he said. "I can't imagine it. But I do know what it's like to hate myself for the mistakes I've made, to wish that I didn't have to keep carrying on, but it gets better Cas, you'll wake up one morning and realise that you can survive."

"I'm scared, Dean. I don't know what else to do." Cas's voice cracked as he spoke and Dean felt a lump rise in his throat, painful and sharp, and hot tears filled his eyes.

"Look, just come home. We can talk about all of this and you'll feel better. Come on."

"I can't. I'm so sorry Dean, I shouldn't have called… Goodbye."

"No, no, no, Cas don't you dare hang up. I don't care how you think you're feeling right now, you deserve to live. You matter. And I don't want to live in a world without you in it." Cas didn't reply, but Dean could still hear his unsteady breathing, so he kept talking, terrified that if he stopped, Cas would be gone.

"You have saved my life more times than I can count, Cas. I owe everything to you." Dean could feel his heart slamming against his chest as he continued desperately. "When you've been away for a few weeks and you walk back through the door it's like someone has lifted a weight off my shoulders and I can finally breathe again. Everything is just better with you around, working a case, watching a movie… everything." Now that he had started, all the things he never thought he would say aloud were pouring out.

"You won't know this, but your eyes do this thing where they change colour with the sky. When it's the sun's out and the sky's clear your eyes are this… incredible bright blue, but at night it's like I can see the stars in there, they're dark and endless and it just… it takes my breath away sometimes." Cas still didn't speak but Dean thought his breathing wasn't so ragged anymore. "It sounds stupid," Dean said, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"I don't think I can do this…" Cas said.

"If you can't hold on for yourself, please just hold on for me," Dean said, tears running down his cheeks. "I can't keep going without you. I know I pretend like I'm bulletproof but I can only act like that because I've got you. I couldn't face half the things that life throws at me if you weren't beside me. I would just fall to pieces because you are the glue and tape that's holding all the broken bits of me together… I…" but he trailed off, realisation stopping him in his tracks. "Oh God," he breathed, holding on to the back of his desk chair. "Cas, I'm in love with you."

"Dean…"

"Cas, I love you," he said again. "I want to spend every second of the rest of my life with you. And I know this isn't the time or the place, but please, come home to me. I can't lose you. Please Cas."

And then there was silence.

"Cas?" Dean said. "Cas? Cas!" Dean's door flew open and Sam ran in, his eyes wide.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"It's Cas," Dean said, choking back the tears. "I think he's gone and done something stupid. He said he couldn't forgive himself and I tried to talk him down but now he's gone and I don't know what's happened." Dean called Cas back but the line was dead.

"He wants to kill himself?" Sam asked incredulously, but before Dean could reply, Sam looked over Dean's shoulder, his expression switching from concern to surprise. Dean whipped around, and there was Cas standing by his bed, looking worse than Dean had ever seen him, but very much alive.

"Damn it, Cas, you scared the crap out of me," Dean said, letting out a long, shaking breath. Cas said nothing, he just stood motionless, his eyes on the floor. "What do you need me to do?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. "Nothing." Dean heard the door close softly behind him as Sam left them alone. Dean pulled Cas by the hand to sit down on the bed, half convinced he was going to blink and the angel would be gone again.

"Please talk to me Cas. Let me help."

"I can't," he said. "Not tonight." Cas looked utterly defeated, his eyes empty and sad. Dean didn't know what else to do, so he pulled Cas into a tight embrace, and he felt Cas's hands cling tightly to his shirt.

"We'll get through this," Dean said. "I promise." Seconds passed and Cas didn't let go, but Dean held on gladly, his heart still hammering and his blood still cold with fear.

"Did you mean it?" Cas asked, his voice muffled by Dean's shoulder.

"Mean what?" Dean asked, finally breaking the embrace to look at Cas.

"When you said you were in love with me."

"Look, that was terrible timing, you don't even have to think about that right now. Just forget I said it."

"Dean, did you mean it?" he repeated, meeting Dean's eyes for the first time, and watching him closely.

"Of course I did, Cas!" Dean exclaimed. "C'mon, I've loved you for years." Cas's expression softened, and Dean saw a little flicker of light return to his eyes. "I'm just sorry I almost had to lose you before I realised." Cas opened his mouth to speak, but then fell in to silence again as though the dark memories that were hounding him were threatening to swallow him up once more.

"Hey," Dean said, nudging Cas gently with his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?" Cas looked up and met Dean's eyes and after a moment he seemed to become calm. He reached out and put his hand on Dean's.

"Yes. I think so," he said, a small smile reaching his lips at last. "After all, you've just given me a hell of a reason to live."


	17. Christmas Wish

Dean climbed into bed that night, his muscles stiff and his eyes heavy. The sheets were cold, and he lay for a long time staring at the ceiling which took on a dull grey hue from the light filtering under the door. He was exhausted, but lay awake for a while in his empty bed before his eyes began to close and his thoughts melted into dreams.

He knew he was standing in the kitchen in the bunker, but the exact details were blurry. Cas was standing at the sink, wearing a pair of Dean's grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his dark hair slightly ruffled.

"Morning," said Dean.

"Morning," Cas replied. He handed Dean a mug of coffee and sat down at the table, picking up a pen and working on the crossword in front of him. Dean walked around the table, but he paused for a second to slide a hand over Cas's shoulder and across his chest, dipping down to kiss him on the temple.

"Seven across is 'verisimilitude'" he said, glancing down at the crossword before kissing Cas once more on the cheek and assuming his seat beside him.

"Thank you," Cas said. Dean found himself smiling as he watched Cas work on the crossword, the end of the pen between his teeth and his forehead creased in concentration.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked after a few moments.

"He went to get some groceries."

"So, we're alone?" he asked, mischievously. Cas smirked, immediately dropped his pen and grabbed Dean by the hand. They hurried from the kitchen towards the bedroom, but as if on cue, Dean heard the distant sound of the heavy bunker door swinging open and the sound of footsteps on the metal stairs. He met Cas's eye with an expression of light-hearted exasperation.

"We're never going to get a minute to ourselves ever again are we?"

"Nope," said Cas, walking through to the library to meet Sam, still holding Dean's hand. They entered the bright library, where a tall tree was standing in the corner, bedecked with red and gold ribbon and twinkling with hundreds of tiny lights. From nowhere, two small shapes came running into the room and launched themselves at Dean and Cas.

"Daddy!" said the eldest child, a boy with sandy blond hair and green eyes. "Uncle Sammy bought me a new car," he said excitedly.

"He did? Right before Christmas? I think your Uncle Sammy is spoiling you," Dean said, grinning at his brother. "Let me see then," he added, sitting down at the table. The boy held out a model of a Lincoln Continental, just like Cas's car that was sitting parked in the garage below their feet.

Cas had scooped up the younger of the two, a little girl, into his arms. She also had blond hair that fell in ringlets around her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. She was struggling to open her own toy with her small fingers, a familiar frown on her face.

"What did you get?" asked Cas, mirroring her expression as he watched her struggle. Just as Cas was about to help her, she managed to pull the plastic backing from the toy, and pulled out a scale model of a '67 Chevrolet Impala, holding it out to him proudly.

"It's your car," she beamed.

"That's my girl," Dean laughed. Cas watched her with a warm smile as he put her down and she ran to the large wooden table to sit by her brother, making little engine noises as she drove the car around on the tabletop.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean said, patting his brother on the back.

"No problem," he replied. "We had a great time." Sam gathered the rest of his shopping and walked past them to the kitchen. Cas slipped his arm around Dean's waist as they watched their children play and chatter happily to each other as they engaged in a car chase that seemed to involve several witches and a rogue llama.

As Dean watched them, he felt complete, as if these children were pieces of his life that he didn't know he'd been missing. They were perfect in every single way.

"I love you," Dean said, looking at Cas. Cas tore his eyes away from his kids to smile at Dean.

"I love you too," he said, pulling Dean closer to him, sliding a hand along the side of his face until his fingers were in his hair, and he kissed him softly on the lips.

Dean jolted awake, finding himself alone and staring up at the grey ceiling, the vivid dream fading swiftly like water through his fingers. He lay still for a few moments before heaving himself upright and letting out a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. The clock on his bedside table read 7:09am so he rose and dressed, replaying his dream in his head, as if by repeating it he could stop the memory from slipping away in the light of day. He emerged into the hallway and heard the quiet sounds of footsteps and running water.

He followed the sound until he reached the kitchen where he found Cas. The angel was in much the same position as in his dream, except he was fully clothed in his usual dark suit and trenchcoat, and he was making toast instead of coffee.

"Morning," Cas said, not really looking up.

"Morning," said Dean, but his disorientation must have found its way in to his voice because Cas asked,

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, although he paused for a second, staring at Cas who was lifting two slices of toast from the toaster, spreading jam on one and peanut butter on the other. He felt like he was seeing the angel differently in the wake of his dream. "I just had a weird dream."

"What was it about?" Cas asked, licking the jam from his index finger, picking up the plates and walking past him from the kitchen. Dean walked with him to the library where the Christmas tree stood, although it looked significantly less impressive than it had in his imagination.

"Breakfast," Cas called, and out of nowhere, two small figures appeared, wrapping themselves around Dean's legs.

"Hey kiddos," he said, with an exaggerated groan as he picked them both up, one in each arm. "I swear you guys are getting bigger by the day."

His daughter threw her arms around his neck holding him tight, and he kissed his son on the forehead before sitting them both down at the table and tucking in their chairs. Cas put down the plates in front of them and turned back to Dean.

"Your dream," Cas prompted. Dean slipped his arm around Cas's waist as they watched their son and daughter talking happily to each other over their breakfast.

"It was weird," Dean said, "because it was just like a normal day. I woke up and I realised that I am actually living my dream." He looked at Cas who was watching his kids with an expression of complete contentment on his face. "You are my dream," Dean said. Cas looked away from his children and smiled at him.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," he said. Dean leaned down to kiss him.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."

* * *

**A/N So that was the final instalment of this series. If you'd like to keep reading more, check out my new one-shot series "Moments". If you've made it all the way to Chapter 17 all I can say is thank you, I really hope you enjoyed some, if not all of these oneshots. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought. All the best x**


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